


Rise of the Mutants, pt. II

by KaiserKris



Series: Rise of the Mutants [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brotherhood of Mutants, Dystopian Futures, Erik is a Dick, F/M, Family Reunions, Genosha, GoT parody, Hellfire Club, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kurt Kidnap Watch 2016, Latveria, M/M, Murderworld, PDA, Recreational Drug Use, Squirrel Girl Is Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 138,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserKris/pseuds/KaiserKris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr has left the Xavier Institute for the Gifted and is already beginning a radical campaign aimed, seemingly at mutant domination. </p><p>The Hellfire Club secretly plots dominion over the world. </p><p>In Washington, politicians and schemers are aiming to create laws to control mutants and the weapons to enforce those laws. </p><p>Against all these seemingly invincible forces stand a small number of teenagers and young adults, who are scarcely even aware of the full dimensions of the dangers they face, let alone ready to face them head on. And yet, the fate of the world may depend on this ragtag band of young people. </p><p>The mutants are rising, but is the world ready for that?</p><p>ONE-SHOTS: If you're interested in seeing a one-shot set in this universe, feel free to request in a comment! I make no promises, but I'm always interested in seeing what readers want to see a bit more of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Windrider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo Munroe has been protecting and taking care of a collection of farming villages and nomadic tribes in a relatively quiet corner of East Africa. 
> 
> However, her relative solitude will soon be broken, as agents of the Xavier Institute come to her door ...

Ororo looked out over the broad dry plain- she knew that the rains should have come some time ago, that they were weeks behind and that already, there were problems for the people and their herds, even more so for the settled farmers in the valleys over the ridge. It would be an easy thing for her to bring rain, but she knew she had to be careful. The larger her manipulations of nature, the more dangerous they were over a wider area.

 

There was only so much moisture in the air to be gathered- otherwise, it would have to be taken from elsewhere. It was entirely possible that she could create a drought elsewhere. Or, as happened last time, the rains came too hard and too fast and it was all she could do to end the storm before the floods swept away entire villages. The crops had not come in well that year.

 

_With a power like mine, I must be careful._

 

And yet, if she did nothing, what would these people do? They could not bring the rain themselves and if they did not have rain, the crops would wither and die, and a little later, so would the animals. The people needed a good crop and healthy animals in order to feed themselves and with a little luck, produce extra that could be sold for other necessities or for money.

 

If the rains did not come, one way or another, the precious, fragile independence of the people in this area would be over, once and for all. The aid organizations would move in and the people would eat, but what the charities never quite understood was what to do when the crisis was over, how to set people back on their feet. Though well-intentioned, the intervention of Westerners tended to be create ripple consequences. The people would receive tractors they could not hope to maintain, patented seeds that would create hideous monocultures and had to be paid for every year- Ororo herself sometimes had trouble understanding the needs of the local people, how could a complete outsider know them?

 

No, it was better that the herders of the rift and the farmers of the valley below be allowed to continue as they always had, more or less. Ororo would have to risk it and bring the rains. If it wasn’t the big Western charities that would come if the crops failed, it would be the government and she cared little for them either. And if it wasn’t the government, it would be the warlords from over the frontier. Once, not so long ago, she’d had to send a message to those warlords. They had awoken to find their technicals- pickup trucks with machine guns fixed onto them, mired in thick mud created by an intensely localized torrential rain.

 

They had understood- they were to stay off the rift and out of the valleys. Ororo had no use for their sectarian warfare, and neither did the people. The people of the rifts were mostly Muslims and had been for a few centuries now and practiced a very local and idiosyncratic brand of their faith. The farmers of the valleys had long practiced their traditional faiths, though as she understood it, in the last twenty or thirty years, most of them had become Christians. The farming villages of the valley were marked with churches that would not have looked out of place in the small  towns of the American prairies.

 

Ororo herself believed neither in Jesus and Muhammad, though she had once upon a time belonged to a family which spanned both of the great monotheistic faiths. Her goddess was Mother Earth and the powers of nature were the only ones that invoked the spiritual feelings that holy texts and worship services did with others. To her, the planet was a living thing, that provided for its children- but the balance of nature had been grievously wounded by the endless human fascination with ‘progress’. _The Goddess weeps and nobody hears her._

 

Clouds gathered in the endless blue expanse of the African sky, first wispy white clouds that eventually gave way to far darker ones. Ororo closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they would not be the dark eyes she was born with but grey-white eyes, not dissimilar to the heavy rainclouds falling in the sky. She took to the air, soaring on a sudden gust of warm air, strong enough to support her weight. She reached out, feeling the moisture building in the clouds, the pressure around her dropping.

 

It would require careful discipline on the one hand, but also an openness, not to control or dominate the power of Mother Earth, but to direct it, to let it flow through her in the needed fashion. _Mother Earth, Goddess, bring the people rain, so that the herdsmen on the rift can find water for their cattle and the farmers of the valley below can water their crops. Bless them and provide for them._ She felt an electric jolt through her body as a clap of thunder issued over the dry rift.

 

And then she felt the rain, a sprinkle at first and then pouring onto the ground, soaking through her clothes, cool and wet, cutting through the heat. She found herself smiling like a little girl- and really, it hadn’t been so long since she’d been a girl, had it, and soared upwards, higher, as high as she could get before she would have reached the cloud layer, as high as she could get before the air got too thin. It was terrifying cold here, she knew, but she had no fear from high or low temperatures.

 

Ororo soared outwards, over the herdsmen of the rift, some of them on their knees- she didn’t know whether they thanked her- they knew her as the windrider, or Allah. It did not matter. She did not need their gratitude. They would give her meat and milk as she needed and that was more than enough. She soared further downwards now, into the valley where the farming villages lay, the people there mostly staying in their huts, save for some of the children, who were playing happily in the rain, throwing mud at each other.

 

Ororo touched down onto the ground and started walking over to the headman’s hut, as she occasionally did. The headman of the village had a particularly precious item, one that she’d given him from the warlord’s camp, a satellite which allowed him to receive television signals from the capital, nearly a thousand kilometers away. Sometimes, when the national team was playing, he would set up the television and the entire village would stop their work and watch the football match.

 

It wasn’t that fleeting contact with the outside world that Ororo was looking for today, however- the headman had indicated that there was a more substantial intrusion of the outside world here today. Travellers from America who were looking for her, who knew of her amazing abilities. Ororo suspected that they’d had to give the headman considerable sum of money to admit that he knew how to contact her.

 

Ororo had no particular desire to talk to strangers from outside, but she couldn’t really be too angered with Jamba- the money earned would more likely be invested back into the village than send into his personal coffers. Ororo didn’t bother knocking on the door, but instead invited herself inside, where Jamba, the headman of the village was sitting at a table with two men- at least, she had to assure herself that one of them was a man, for he was a most peculiar looking one, with blue fur and a somewhat simian appearance. The other man seemed more ordinary, though he was physically huge.

 

“It is all right, Ororo, this is a scientist. Dr. Hank McCoy. I know this because my son read a paper by him in university.” Ororo remembered that Jamba’s son, who he’d named David, after the Hebrew king, was attending university in the capital city, studying agriculture for the most part, though he’d taken a wide variety of other classes. “Genetics. David says he helped discover what makes mutants the way they are.”

 

Ororo knew, of course, that she hadn’t been given her powers by some divine mandate, whether by some sky-God as the people around her worshipped or by Mother Earth. She was well-aware that she was a mutant, though the fact had no particular resonance to her. The connection that that ability gave her to the planet was a far more significant thing.

 

“You’re far too generous. I only served as a research assistant to Dr. Charles Xavier.” Hank McCoy, the huge, simian person, adjusted an amusingly small pair of glasses on his nose. “But as it happens, that is indeed my concern.” He cast his eyes out at the rain outside. “Dr. Hank McCoy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended an enormous hand out to shake and Ororo took it a little gingerly. “My companion here is Piotr Rasputin.”

 

It was briefly tempting to pretend that she didn’t know English, but she was quite sure that Jamba had told them she knew the language, as well she would- her father was American, after all, a journalist who had spent most of his career in Africa, chronicling the triumphs and tragedies of the continent. Of course, David Munroe had realized in time that the American media was only interested in the tragedies. No one really cared to see pictures of thriving villages or growing cities.

 

“It is nice to meet you.” Piotr finally volunteered. Ororo got the idea that Dr. McCoy would be doing most of the talking- she would have thought that perhaps Piotr was a bodyguard of some sort, but then again, by the looks of Dr. McCoy, he hardly needed protection.

 

Ororo hesitantly sat down, though she gently passed up Jamba’s offer of beer- she had never had any affinity with alcohol, something she knew she had in common with the herdsmen of the rift. The herdsmen and the farmers mostly got along well, but the affinity of the farmers for drink was something the herdsmen loved to gossip about.

 

“I’m a representative of the Xavier Institute in Westchester, New York. We are a specialized educational institution of sorts. We specialize in training young mutants in the use of their abilities and we would like to extend an invitation for you to come join us on full scholarship.” Dr. McCoy sounded so proud of that Institute.

 

Ororo for her part looked outside again pointedly. “Do I look like someone who requires training in the use of their abilities?”

 

“... you created that rain?” Piotr spoke up, his eyes wide.

 

“I directed it. I do not control the powers of nature, but can shape them and direct them if need be. Why would I leave a place where I am happy and can be of help to go to a strange place and learn how to use my powers for- what purpose? Profit? Political gain?” Ororo’s eyes narrowed.

 

“The betterment of humanity. All of it. The promotion of peace and the advancement of the common interest.” Dr. McCoy piped up. “Your abilities are assuredly most impressive but we have access to extremely advanced technology which would help you better use your abilities to, as you put it, direct the powers of nature. Would you at least like to come visit the school? If it is not to your liking, we would return you here.”

 

Jamba looked somewhat displeased by the whole turn of conversation and distinctly uncomfortable.

 

Ororo looked squarely at Dr. McCoy. “Is the money you offered him conditional in any way on me going with you?”

 

“No, it is not that.” Jamba insisted. “They have been very fair in their dealings. But I must speak. Ororo does not just bring us the rain when we need it- she is also protection for us. There are dangerous armed bands not far away from here. They fear her, so they leave us alone. If they knew she left, even for a short while, they would come. We are peaceful folk and unlike the herdsmen, we cannot simply move on. We would be slaughtered.”

 

“Of course.” Hank paused for a moment. “If we assisted the villagers with this problem, Ororo, would you come for a time? A month, perhaps? Enough time to establish if we could be of any practical assistance to you. If we eliminate their security problem, by the looks of the weather outside, they will not be needing your particular brand of assistance anytime soon.”

 

“How can you deal with the militias?” Ororo raised her eyebrow. “Unless you came here with some manner of small army, I don’t see how you would be able to defeat them in any sort of convincing way.”

 

“Piotr, do show Ororo your mutant power.” Hank got a strange sort of smile on his face.

 

Piotr’s form shifted and changed as his pale skin disappeared totally be be replaced by shining metallic armour. Jamba visibly jumped at the transformation, nearly spilling his beer. He certainly looked impressive in the metallic armour that covered him, though she wondered how proof it would be against the various weapons the warlords had.

 

“We’ve tested Piotr here and unless these warlords have access to Patriot missiles, they have absolutely nothing capable of harming him. As for me, well, admittedly I’m a touch more vulnerable than he is, but more than capable of taking care of myself. What do you say, Ororo? The three of us permanently neutralize the threat hanging over these people and in exchange, a free extended vacation in America, with no obligation of staying over the long term.”

 

Ororo thought for a moment, but the truth was that as long as the warlords were active in the area, the people were not entirely safe. She didn’t know if she trusted these foreigners, but the thought of ensuring their safety- if they could actually disperse the warlords. She realized that she would have to take the risk. How could she explain to the people that she refused to help them or make use of others who wished to help because she herself had a bit of a grudge against America and foreigners?

 

Ororo hated to admit it, but the truth was that she was a foreigner too. Nobody cared to look at her passport here in the village or in the nomad’s tents, but it would read as ‘American’, even though she’d never lived there. Her mother had been Egyptian, her father African-American and they’d lived mostly in Cairo. She didn’t like to dwell too much on the past, though. The past was too painful a place to linger.

 

“Very well. Tonight, we will deal with the warlords. And then soon after, I will go with you for a time. But do not expect me to stay there. This is my home now.” Ororo looked at them. “Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Dr. McCoy replied. “In the meantime, another beer would be splendid. That and any intelligence you have on the dispositions and compositions of said militia.”

  
“If you can get rid of those bastards, you can have every beer in my house.” Jamba dug another bottle out, opening it with a knife before passing it to Dr. McCoy.

 

“A shame that Logan wasn’t here, he’d happily take you up on that.” Dr. McCoy smiled. “To a successful expedition, then.”


	2. The Mallrat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the author attempts to handle Jubilee. 
> 
> But to wit, Jubilee lives in a mall. And Logan goes to get her. She steals from him. Shenanigans!

Some people said that there was a ghost living inside the Palm Grove Shopping Mall, located in the exurbs of sunny Los Angeles, California. 

 

The people that worked there generally knew better, especially the tired young guys who worked later at night, most especially the college dropouts who did stock in the big anchor stores. The security guards knew better too. Some of them tolerated the ghost and others tried to chase her out, but Jubilee knew this place inside and out and could always find a place to hide or someone willing to hide her. The stockboys thought it was a bit of a game. 

 

And really, honestly, she didn’t steal very much at all. Mostly, she ate whatever food was leftover at the end of the day- and that was almost always a lot. The owners didn’t like that all that much, but the owners were mostly gone later at night. There were plenty of reasonably comfortable places to sleep, not the least of which was inside a shop that sold beds. There were always public washrooms, though when she needed to shower, she’d have to get out of the mall and go to the Salvation Army down the street. 

 

Jubilee hated the Salvation Army, she hated being preached at and she knew that they wanted nothing more than to see her get back into the foster system.  _ I’d fucking kill myself before I go back there.  _ There were probably good foster parents somewhere out there but she hadn’t met any of them. All she’d met were stingy, mean women and men who wanted someone disposable. She’d been caught and put into one not too long ago- but when the bastard had tried to touch her, he’d got a face full of fireworks. He’d hit the floor screaming, burned and blinded. 

 

So being caught and dragged into the system was not an option. 

 

Once upon a time, of course- it really wasn’t that long ago, honestly, she’d gone here all the time, not as a street rat, but as a regular kid. Her parents hadn’t been rich exactly, but they were well off. Her father had always hated the mall, found it an ugly reminder of all the things he liked least about America, but Jubilee loved it for many of the same reasons. Jubilee loved bright lights and loud, populated spaces and the mall had plenty of those- she loved cool stuff and there were a few hundred shops full of cool stuff. She loved junk food and there was an amazing profusion of that available. 

 

If only she had some money to actually  _ buy  _ some of the cool stuff, but the fact was that Jubilee didn’t. Sometimes, people would throw her a little money when she put on one of her little light shows in the mall, but that was a dangerous game- people were just as likely to want her removed. In any case, what they usually left was pocket change, good enough to buy the odd smoothie or order of fries to placate the food court people, but not good enough to get new clothes or anything like that. There weren’t many options for earning money available to her- nobody would trust her with a job around here even if she was old enough to work, and she didn’t feel like either turning tricks or selling tricks, so that left theft. 

 

Jubilee had a certain code when it came to stealing from people’s pockets- she’d grab the wallet and fish money out and then usually leave the wallet close at hand. She was pretty good at it so people didn’t really suspect her much. She didn’t take from anyone who looked obviously poor, though rich kids were the best targets- she figured that rich kids weren’t supporting anyone. She didn’t feel too bad about swiping their cash. 

 

Pickpocketing was dangerous, though. Jubilee had to be careful about it- not because the guards and clerks were likely to catch her, let alone the people she stole from, but because she relied on people not putting too much effort into shutting her down. And if she got kicked out of the mall, really booted out, then it would be the streets and if she got on the streets, she was pretty much fucked. The ability to basically make fireworks was enough to drive off perverted foster dads but it wouldn’t mean shit to the gangs. 

 

It was best to target people who weren’t regulars. There was one guy in particular who seemed to be walking around a bit aimlessly- who stuck out like a sore thumb. Jubilee looked closer at him for a moment. He wasn’t a regular guy, she figured he was some trucker that found himself with a day off, maybe was looking for a Christmas present for his kid or something. He was pretty short, actually, but was rock solid- not the kind of guy she wanted to pick a fight with. But he had a big fat wallet practically hanging out of his back pocket. 

 

There was a lot of green in there- a fat wad of bills. Maybe he was one of those weirdos that didn’t like banks or credit cards and kept everything in cash. Either way, it looked like the kind of score that could do her for quite awhile. She didn’t really need to buy food and she’d always been able to find places to crash for the night in the gigantic mall. 

 

_ Okay. I can do this. Get your head in the game, girl.  _

 

Jubilee stalked up close to him, trying her best to look unobtrusive. The crowds were thick, which meant there were more eyes about, but it also meant that people didn’t tend to linger. She was probably going to be fine on that account. Jubilee got up close and carefully, carefully reached out, pinched the wallet and fished it out in a smooth motion, pocketing it and swiftly but deliberately getting away. She cast an eye towards the man a few seconds later. He was looking like he was going to go buy something and then realized that his wallet was gone. 

 

Jubilee quickly scampered off to the ladies’ room to go and count the money out.  _ Holy shit. Jackpot.  _ It was perfect really- a fat wad of mostly twenties, tens and fives- larger bills were no good for her, people got weird when kids had large bills. But this was just right. About half the bills were twenties, with a nice mixture of tens and fivers for the rest. Trusting in her best seventh-grade math skills, she started counting. The grand total, plus a bit of change came out as a little north of five hundred dollars. There were credit cards and things in there too, but Jubilee didn’t bother with those.

 

Jubilee did like to snoop around a little bit, though, and tried to see who this guy was- some guy named ‘Logan’ who worked at a fancypants-sounding private school called the Xavier Institute for the Gifted.  _ He didn’t look like a teacher. Maybe he’s like, the custodian or something.  _ She felt like she should recognize that name, but maybe it’d just been somewhere her parents had discussed before they’d died. 

 

Jubilee quickly came back out of the bathroom- confident that she hadn’t been seen by anyone and went back to the scene of the crime she’d just committed, with the victim querying some other people. She waited for a moment and then whisper-quiet, dropped the wallet on the ground in a somewhat hidden away spot. It probably wasn’t the safest course of action, but maybe “Logan” would be able to get his wallet back. People who carried that kind of cash around them could usually replace it pretty easily- in the end, it’d be no skin off his back. 

 

_ Well, now I’m a little richer, what should I do?  _

 

There were an awful lot of boring pragmatic things that Jubilee needed- she could drag the few clothes she had, which she kept stashed away in a quiet corner of the mall off to the laundromat to clean. They didn’t ask questions there, were probably used to homeless or semi-homeless people there.  _ New shoes, too.  _ Those were more expensive and they’d eat a big hole out of her score, but a good pair would last for months. But right now, she wanted to celebrate and there was no better way to celebrate than heading down to the Ben and Jerry’s. 

 

Jubilee was going to get herself a fucking Vermonster and she was going to eat the whole damn thing and nobody could stop her. Twenty scoops of ice cream and all the fixings sounded  _ really  _ good right then. She was so thrilled with herself that she practically skipped up to the Ben and Jerry’s, which was staffed by a slightly nerdy guy named Chen who she knew had a gigantic crush on her. Sometimes he’d given her free stuff. 

 

“Heyyy Chen.” Jubilee gave him her best shit-eating grin. “How ya doin’?” She bounced on her heels. 

 

“... I’m okay.” Chen looked around nervously. “Maybe come back later.” He probably thought she was angling for freebies, which to be fair to him, was most times. 

 

“Come back later? You guys all outta ice cream or what?” She pulled out some money from her pockets. “Paying customer, baby. Gimme a Vermonsterrr. That pimply bitch Julie can handle the other customers. Let’s go on an ice cream adventure together, you and I.” Jubilee didn’t like Julie at all. Julie never gave her free stuff and sometimes tried to stop Chen from doing so, even when the free stuff was wasted stock they were going to get rid of anyway. 

 

“You shouldn’t be mean to people.” Chen protested. “Julie is nice. Vermonster is … twenty scoops of ice cream and toppings.” 

 

“I know, Chen. I promise if I puke it all up, it won’t be on your floor. Cross my heart and hope to die. But I won’t, because my stomach is basically a tesseract. How much is a Vermonster, baby?” Jubilee grinned broadly. 

 

“It is $39.99.” Chen looked at her for a moment, but when she presented him with the money, he took it and rang it up. The next few minutes was an epic odyssey in joy as she got to pick twenty scoops of an unimaginable variety of ice creams. She would’ve killed for something legitimately Asian in there- where was Ben and Jerry’s love for matcha or red bean, but there was nothing wrong with the profusion of chocolatey and caramelly and cookie dough-crammed delights on hand. 

 

A few minutes later, the monstrous concoction was made up and Jubilee was able to start eating it, filling her mouth with huge gobs of hot-fudge laden ice cream, bananas and brownies, not caring at the people that were staring at her. Jubilee, like the honey badger, didn’t give a shit. There was food to be had and she was going to eat it. Hard days when no food was to be had taught her to appreciate food when it was there. And the way that Jubilee chose to appreciate food was to cram it down her gullet. 

 

The best part, aside from the incredible profusion of delicious ice cream, was when the pimple-faced bitch tried to glare at her. Jubilee just gave her the biggest, messiest hot-fudge laden grin possible and the coveted double bird. No doubt poor sweet Chen would be horrified, but it would probably be best for him to understand that Jubilee wasn’t a tame little thing, like the mall’s very own pet. 

 

Jubilee was the mall’s goddamn spirit animal. 

 

In the midst of her moment of triumph, however, she felt a shadow descend over her as the man whose money she’d taken sit next to her. Everything inside her told to make like the gazelle and flee, but something kept her rooted to her seat. The man pulled out a Swiss Army knife and Jubilee’s eyes went wide and she began feeling real fear coiling up in her stomach.

 

Then ‘Logan’ pulled out a hilariously tiny spoon from the knife and took a piece of her sundae. “Figure you owe me some of this thing, seein’ as you bought it with my money.” He spoke in a low tone and something deep inside Jubilee told her that this was not a man to fuck with. Though he wasn’t a whole lot taller than she was, he was massively built for his size and had the look of a man who’d seen things. 

 

He looked a bit young for `Nam, but he totally looked like the sort of guy who’d seen shit in `Nam. 

 

“Look. I’ll give it back. Don’t … don’t call the cops.”  _ Or drag me out of here and gut me like a fish.  _

 

“Not gonna call the cops, darlin’.” Jubilee didn’t know whether she should be reassured by that or terrified. He took another spoonful of her ice cream that she’d bought with his money. “Not bad. Ain’t much of a sweets guy, though. You took a look around that wallet?” 

 

Jubilee had no idea what the fuck this guy was on about, but she also had the sinking feeling that if she tried to bolt, he’d catch her and she didn’t know how well her sparklies would work against a really determined pursuer. They didn’t always even come out, anyway. 

 

“So yer a mutant and an orphan. Sorry to hear about that, by the way.” Logan took another small spoonful of, well, mostly brownie and ate it. He spoke lowly, really lowly, like he didn’t want to be overheard. Though people seemed to edge away from him naturally. “I’m gonna be level with you. Bunch of the owners are real tired of yer antics. They’re sendin’ around security guys, they’re comin’ now.” 

 

“Nothing new there, bub.” Jubilee shrugged, trying to look as non-shit-giving as the honey badger. “I told you, I’ll give your shit back- but just leave me alone.” He could’ve just been a pervert. 

 

Then she started seeing big men in plainclothes, walking and sniffing about- the sort of guys that looked casual but were anything but. They looked like an altogether harder bunch of men than the tubby security guards she was used to, tougher than any security officers she’d seen. One of them spotted her and then three of them were advancing on the two of them. 

 

“Sir, step away from the girl.” There was a really mean look on the man’s face and the way that he was carrying the baton suggested they weren’t going to kick her out gently. 

 

“I’m eatin’ a little ice cream with my daughter here.” Logan turned to the man and gave a toothy grin. “It’s her birthday. We’re goin’ glow-bowling after this, so why don’t you go and piss off, bub.” 

 

Jubilee decided then and there that she actually kinda like Logan- that he was a cool dude who apparently feared nothing. She also knew that she wouldn’t have a chance to run unless it actually got physical and they were occupied. She took another massive spoonful of ice cream and crammed it into her mouth, making sure to chew with an open mouth. 

 

“Sir.” The man cracked his neck. “The girl’s obviously Chinese and you’re a white guy.” 

 

“She’s adopted.” Logan replied with a grin that turned into something that was really badass and scary. “And I ain’t white, bub.” That seemed to really piss him off. I’m gonna say it one time and I suggest you listen. Get out of my face while ya still got yours.”

 

The guards got close and Logan for his part sprang out of his seat and before they could do anything even remotely in the vicinity of swing their batons, he struck out with both his hands and hit both of them in the gut, hard enough that Jubilee could feel the breath exploding out of their mouths, leaving them on the floor some six feet away from where they’d started, writhing and puking. 

 

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go.” Logan looked at her for a moment. 

 

“Okay … thanks for the save, but why the fuck should I trust you?” Jubilee stared at him. It was insane to trust him, even if he was a complete badass who just punched the shit out of two bigger guys at the same time. 

 

“Language, kid.” Logan smirked faintly and then he sniffed the air a few times. “More’s comin’. I can take care of `em, but it’s gonna get ugly. Ya got two choices. Roll with me or take yer chances. They’re after you and there’s lots of `em. Even if you make it, there ain’t gonna be a place for you here anymore.” 

 

Jubilee wanted to scream at him that it wasn’t true, that there’d always be a place for her hear, at the suburban shopping mall that sat only a twenty minute walk from where she lived. She knew deep down that the reason she was tolerated by so many was because they knew her, knew her story, remembered her from the past. But she’d fucked that up, stealing and causing trouble. 

 

This Logan guy could’ve been a cannibalistic pedophile for all she knew, but something in her gut told her he wasn’t. She took a deep breath. 

 

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

 

“Good call, kid.” Logan grinned at her. 

 


	3. Charles IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles Xavier realizes he doesn't have enough money to actually do the X-Men thing. 
> 
> So he's going to enlist the assistance of SHIELD for funding.

“So what you’re saying, Charles, is that you’re going to steal one of my best employees  _ and  _ you’re asking for a huge amount of financing for what looks to me like a rival superhero venture? Though to be fair, technically that’s SHIELD.” Tony Stark smirked faintly. “You’re lucky that I’m a bit of a sucker for big idealists.” Charles was fairly sure he’d never met a person whose mouth more easily made smug little smirks. He knew Tony Stark was a good person at heart, but he could be a lot to bear sometimes. 

 

“Forge left Stark Enterprises some months ago, Tony. I hardly think that’s considered theft.” Charles raises his eyebrow. 

 

“Quit, left, stole, look, it’s all the same thing.” Tony laughed. “He’s gone and he’s coming to work for you.” His seemingly perpetual little grin turned into something more thoughtful. “Nick’s agreed. SHIELD will pick up half the tab as you requested. You’ll have to make regular reports, but they’ll go straight through to me or Nick himself. No one else.” He walked on and Charles followed him through the development labs of Stark Enterprises. 

 

Charles nodded. “And the government?” It seemed like a bit of a risk that SHIELD was taking, offering funding to a group of mutants just as the government was drafting laws for mandatory registration.  _ And funding weapons to use to enforce those laws, if rumours be accurate.  _

 

“The government doesn’t know half of what we do, Xavier.” A different voice spoke up now, the commanding baritone of Nick Fury himself. “We give them results and they know better than to press for details.” One dark eye settled on him intently. “As I see it, you’re essentially contractors. Your job is to find, contact and assist young mutants to control their powers and ensure that they aren’t a threat to anyone. From what I’ve heard, you’ve started doing that already.” 

 

Charles didn’t love Fury’s insistence on the education of young mutants as a security issue, but he knew that was far more the product of a soldier’s mind than any actual feeling against them. Truthfully, the General was right as well. Mutants who did not have control over their powers  _ were  _ a security threat. Mutants who remained in a hostile environment, ripe for potential recruitment by demagogues like Erik were perhaps even more so. 

 

It was more than a little painful for him to consider Erik, one of his oldest friends, as a demagogue, but at the same time, Charles knew that the man intended to use his undeniable charisma towards unpleasant ends. He wondered how much Fury knew about what had happened with Erik, if it had swayed his decision. Of course, Erik would never have agreed to work with an organization like SHIELD. Charles himself had his doubts, but at the same time, they had important work to do and people willing to engage in it. 

 

“I have a few people out in the field contacting young mutants, yes. One is in California right now and I have a couple in Africa.” Fury would receive the report anyway, so there was no point in not divulging that they were already getting to work. “However, as you know, there are significant hazards to contacting unknown individuals with abilities that may be poorly controlled. It’s not really feasible to rely on commercial or charter flights. We need reliable long-distance transportation of our own. And the financial resources and backing to continue running a very thorough and expensive educational program.” 

 

“We may have a solution to the transportation problem.” Fury replied. 

 

“Nick, you’re such an understater. You’d think you were English or something. Next thing we know, you’ll be sipping tea with your pinkie out.” Tony broke into the conversation and wore another one of those smug little grins that couldn’t help but annoy Charles. He wasn’t unused to arrogant men, but at least Erik Lehnsherr had worn his with a certain  _ gravitas _ . Tony Stark smiled and quipped as if he were constantly grooming himself for a presidential run. “We definitely have a solution to your transportation problem. Consider it the free gift for signing up with the good guys.” 

 

Xavier would have preferred to remain entirely independent in reality- it wasn’t that he really doubted the goodwill of SHIELD or Nick Fury or Tony Stark, it was more that he disliked any official interference in the Institute’s activities. However, there was a blunt reality that he had to consider here, one that overrode the other considerations. 

 

Charles Xavier simply couldn’t afford the Institute’s expanded operations.

 

It had been Moira that had first indicated that to him- and even considering her briefly made him feel a pang of guilt, because it’d been far too long since he’d seen her. Theirs was a marriage designed with a great deal of space, for they were both busy professionals who in some ways, were married to their careers and were having an affair with each other. However, it’d been longer than usual since he’d been back to Muir Island and he knew that it was beginning to put strain on their relationship. 

 

Moira was the one that had told Charles that he’d never be able to afford what he was planning- and seeing as she was, among many other things, his financial advisor, he believed her implicitly. He was an extremely wealthy man, of course, with a considerable income from a variety of wise long-term investments and a knack for making impressive short-term gains on the stock markets as needed. However rich he was, however, he wasn’t a multibillionaire like Tony Stark or Sebastian Shaw and couldn’t maintain the expanded operations of the Institute on his own resources. He had to reach out to someone. 

 

There were basically two places that Charles knew he could get that funding from. One of them was SHIELD, Nick Fury and Tony Stark, where he’d ultimately turned to. They had the distinct disadvantage of being affiliated with the government, but on the other hand, they were operationally independent. He couldn’t claim to have loved either Tony Stark or Nick Fury, but they were both honourable men in very different ways, people with good intentions who could basically be trusted. 

 

The other route of possible funding that Charles could have utilized was through Sebastian Shaw and the Hellfire Club- an organization that liked to portray itself as a social club for the global elite, but was really every conspiracy theorist’s dream- the real-life Illuminati. Charles had no doubt that he would have been provided whatever money was necessary from the Hellfire Club, but that would also mean putting the Hellfire Club in a position of power over him. As much as he disliked anyone having influence over him, he’d gladly take Nick Fury any day over Sebastian Shaw, particularly with what he’d been told by Elisabeth and Piotr. 

 

Charles motored himself along with the two men as they walked down the corridor into what looked like a huge, empty hangar. He looked towards them with a raised eyebrow- it seemed odd to be ushered into such a large empty room. 

 

“Wait for it.” Tony grinned broadly. 

 

And then out of complete nothingness, a sleek dark shape shimmered into being, a large airplane at least built in the approximate shape of the old SR-71 Blackbird spyplanes, though this particular aircraft looked a little larger and at the same time sleeker. It was a very impressive sight indeed. 

 

“It looks more or less like a Blackbird, but it’s not, really.” Nick Fury spoke this time. “It’s got visual and radar stealth capabilities as good as anything that exists. It’s fast, too. Cruise speed of Mach 2 with the capacity to get up to Mach 4 in a pinch. It’s so fast, it can outspeed missiles. Your new friend Forge will find that there’s a bit of room to add any specialized technology you want in there.” 

 

Fury didn’t say it out loud, but Charles was pretty certain that he was thinking of Cerebro- which was, after all, the primary means that Charles had of locating mutants. He had given some thought, previously, to miniaturizing it somehow. If a smaller version could somehow be put on this aircraft, it would be a major boon. Cerebro also had the not-inconsiderable advantage of increasing the power and range of any telepath who used it- such a thing could be a useful defensive tool as well as for intelligence. 

 

“There aren’t any weapons in it- as you’ve described your MO, you likely won’t need any. If unwanted folks start poking their noses around, you’ve got the speed and the stealth to simply give them the slip.” Fury’s one eye turned towards Charles intently. “You are  _ not  _ to engage any government assets. This will all work much better if the boys in Washington don’t know what we’re doing here.” 

 

“It’s fun.” Tony added. “We get to be a conspiracy. A conspiracy of helping dangerous young people become less dangerous. Sounds like a pretty decent conspiracy to be a part of, if you ask me.” 

 

“I have no intention of attacking the US government, General Fury. Our mandate is to help young mutants, not to harm anyone. I have no desire to arm this aircraft.” Charles looked at it again, the sleek black body and powerful-looking engines. It was an incredibly impressive looking aircraft. Something came to mind, however. “How difficult is it to pilot this aircraft?” He realized that he didn’t actually have a trained pilot at his disposal, unless Forge had indeed picked up the skill somewhere. 

 

“The systems are all designed to be astonishingly easy to operate- basic operations shouldn’t be much more difficult than playing  _ Call of Duty.”  _ Tony spoke up. “I suggest you get someone trained, you know, just in case you end up being chased by hostile jets and need to do some fancy maneuvers, but it’s amazingly user-friendly. The plane’s controls are both manual and vocal-command based.” 

 

Charles knew, however, that the moment he revealed the existence and possession of this aircraft, that Scott would obsessively learn how to pilot it. It would be the height of futility not to allow him to do so- the boy had a love of machines that seemed to be deep in his blood. It wasn’t something that Charles necessarily shared with Scott, Charles himself tended to see machines as mostly useful tools. In truth, he’d relied fairly heavily on Erik to do much of the heavy lifting when it came to designing and building the various bits of technology in the Institute. 

 

That, of course, was the main reason he’d reached out to Forge- because perhaps no one else on Earth had the intuitive grasp of how to operate and enhance technology in the same manner that he did. It was his mutant gift after all, one that was difficult to observe and quantify, but created astonishing results. It was an amazing gift that, honestly, Charles had always felt that Forge hadn’t utilized to its fullest potential. There was no doubt Forge had an impressive reputation as it was, but he could have one on par with Reed Richards. 

“I take it that the aircraft will serve the purpose?” Fury asked pointedly. 

 

“It will, very nicely. Thank you very much.” Charles replied politely, though he was pretty sure that Fury wasn’t precisely looking for praise or to be thanked. General Fury was a man who wanted results.  _ He’ll get what he’s looking for so long as he understands that I am not in this primarily for security reasons.  _ That being said, Charles saw no reason they could not continue to coexist. 

 

There were other advantages as well- if agents of the Xavier Institute were working with the blessing of SHIELD, that meant that it was very unlikely indeed that the Avengers would mistake them for some manner of mutant terrorist. The last thing that Charles needed was for Logan to get into some ridiculous brawl with Captain America or for Piotr and Hank’s mission in Africa to be waylaid by an unpleasant encounter with Thor. 

 

“Don’t thank me. Make the world a better place.” Fury replied bluntly. “That’s why I gave this technology to you. I know damn well we don’t have the same priorities- or the same mindsets. But I hope we can work together anyway. And maybe, one day, this can all be out in the open and people won’t think twice about it. Isn’t that what you’re aiming for?” 

 

It was. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the short and medium-term goals of the Institute that one forgot about the long-term, about the promotion of not just peace, but genuine brotherhood between mutants and non-mutants, about moving forward into the future together. It was a dream that looked so far away at the moment, but perhaps, this cooperation was a significant step in the right direction. 

 

“So, I guess, you’d better be looking at making some space in your basement for this little bundle of joy, huh?” Tony looked over at Xavier. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a hangar in there, do you?” 

 

“Actually, as it happens, I do. I didn’t expect to be utilizing anything this advanced, but I did anticipate we would need autonomous air transport.” Xavier replied. “As you can imagine, commercial flights are distinctly not an option. And even charter flights are a real danger.” 

 

“Well, it’s yours.” Fury replied quickly. “So how many people do you think are going to be involved in these special operations? The aircraft has a capacity of eight, plus one space that’s basically a holding cell with power-dampening technology. May be useful if you pick someone up who can’t control their powers.” 

 

That was something that Charles hadn’t given immense thought to- Piotr, Betsy, Hank and Logan had volunteered and he knew that Scott wanted in on special operations desperately. He wasn’t certain how Jean felt about it, nor Wanda. He hated himself for thinking it, but he wasn’t entirely certain if he could trust Wanda completely. Even though she had stayed, even though she resented her father bitterly, Charles knew that she was less than optimistic about the chances of lasting peace. 

 

The others were too young- Kurt was sixteen, Bobby was fifteen and Kitty even younger than that. It was possible that in time they too may decide to join the Xavier Institute’s expanded operations in mutant outreach, but the last thing he wanted to do was to pressure them to do so. It was imperative that they be able to choose their own paths. 

 

“No more than six at a time.” Charles replied. “There are five currently and there may be one or two others. Most of my students are teenagers and surely you understand why, for several reason, I will not be putting them in the field. Even for generally peaceful objectives.” 

 

“I’d kick your ass if you didn’t see it that way.” Fury replied bluntly. 

 

“Well, if you two fellows are done your little male-bonding session, we’ve got plenty of work to do.” Tony grinned as an intern swiftly produced a bottle of scotch, ice and glasses. “How about we do it over a few drinks in the office? I think a beautiful friendship like this deserves to be toasted.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% on the MCU boat as regards SHIELD and the Avengers in this fic series, but they're a pretty heavy influence. Feel free to imagine Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury and RDJ as Tony Stark here.


	4. Kitty IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty is angsty and angry. 
> 
> Bobby is a little scared. 
> 
> Both need hugs.

It was really happening this time. Kitty’s parents were divorcing- which promised to be a messy affair, as the two of them had a lot of assets to split between them. It also probably meant that she’d never get to live in her family home again- the place had always been a little too big and expensive than their incomes could really justify and once separated, there wasn’t a hope in hell that either one of the two would stay there. It would be sold and the equity split down the middle and Kitty would never get to sit on her front step or kick around a soccer ball in their backyard. 

 

Kitty punched the sandbag again, wishing that she could somehow personify the concept of divorce and punch  _ that.  _ The sandbag would have to do, though, and she continued to thrash it as hard as she could until her arms were heavy like lead and her knuckles hurt, even through the boxing gloves she wore. She was panting, bathed in sweat. Her muscles already ached and she knew she needed to stop. 

 

But the she imagined the  _ For Sale  _ sign in front of her family house and her parents arguing about custody arrangements and who got to keep what, and a mad energy seized her and she forced herself to keep hitting the bag, again and again. She also struck it with her feet and knees, not really practicing coherent stances or strikes, but just wailing on the sandbag as hard as she could, until it was really impossible for her to do so any longer. 

 

The dull ache had become a deep, abiding pain that Kitty knew would stick around for a day or two. The sweat that had already been profuse enough had soaked her now- and her legs were so weak that she could barely stand. Everything hurt, her muscles hurt, her head hurt, her heart hurt. It was all she could do to stagger off to the bench and sit down, muscles barely capable of cooperating with even that smallest of motions. 

 

_ I should cry. It would be good for me to cry. What the hell is wrong with me that I can’t just cry?  _ Kitty couldn’t quite bring herself to cry, though, so she contented herself with staring sullenly at the sandbag, wishing that she could will it to burst into flames. She was glad there was very little at hand- if there was a glass or anything breakable, she was certain she would have thrown it at the wall. She forced herself to take a drink from her water bottle- and then hurled it at the wall as hard as she could. But made of hard plastic as it was, it wasn’t going to break. 

 

“Hey Kitty- should’ve figured you were out here. Looks like you had quite a workout. Maybe you need a cool down?” Bobby walked in, wearing a goofy grin that normally she adored, but right now, it just pissed her off. She didn’t really want to talk to anyone at the moment, but least of all someone who was cheery and goofy. Kitty didn’t have much of a sense of humour at the time. “I can provide that. Being the coolest guy in the Institute after all.” 

 

“Not now, Bobby.” Kitty forced herself to be polite, but her tone was clipped and tense, as tense as her muscles were at the moment, eagerly working themselves up into colossal knots. She’d be feeling the ill-effects of her anger for at least a day or two.  _ Come on, Drake. Just leave me alone. Gimme some time here.  _

 

“You sure, Kitty? Because you sure look like you need a cooldown. How about I pop back with some nice cold lemonade? Maybe some like, post-exercise snacks? Something proteiny?” Bobby grinned at her. “Anything you like, I’ll get it, even if I have to c-” 

 

“Bobby. I told you to leave me alone.  _ Do it.”  _ She glared at him, her teeth practically gritting, every nerve taut to the edge of endurance. It was cruel and she’d probably hate herself later, but right now, she wanted nothing more than to stew in her own misery and anger, at least until it’d all simmered down into something that would allow for human company. 

 

Kitty didn’t know if she was more afraid that letting him be around her right now would only make her more annoyed with him, or if she was actually worried that she would feel better when she didn’t want to feel better. Kitty wanted to be miserable and angry right now, needed to feel miserable and angry. She needed to stare her life problems in the face. 

 

Bobby, for his part, looked like he’d been slapped. “... okay.” His voice sounded tiny and broken and she realized, to her shame, that he was probably used to being snapped at by people. She hung her head down, that shame being added to the stew of complex, awful emotions that was bubbling up inside her. By the time she managed to look up again, Bobby was gone, having padded away silently. 

 

Kitty remained there for several minutes, feeling sorry for herself, as her body knotted itself up into a mess. She knew that in a short while, she’d be really wanting a shoulder or backrub, maybe a shoulder to cry on. But how could she ask that of Bobby after she’d snapped at him like he was some sort of pest?  _ He doesn’t deserve a bitch like me. He needs to be with some sweet, goofy girl who doesn’t carry around a great big chip on her shoulder.  _

 

Kitty knew that people mostly thought of her as, well, a sweet, nerdy girl. Certainly, it was no secret that she tended to work hard at whatever she did, whether it be school, training or even pickup basketball, where she could hold her own even against far taller, athletic Jean and utterly dominated Wanda- who was not particularly athletic, the one time she’d played. 

 

Most people and she suspected this included even the telepaths, didn’t realize just how much anger was inside her, how easy it was for her to carry grudges. Whether it was clueless children taunting her for not eating bacon or doing Christmas things at school or the increasing tide of intolerance against mutants in the wider world, or whether it was knowing deep down that your parents were falling out of love with each other- anger had been her constant companion. 

 

Sometimes Kitty could use that anger constructively, as motivation to excel- to rise to the top of her class in virtually every class she’d ever taken in every grade in school, to quickly learn the fundamentals of martial arts after she’d largely given up on her childhood dreams of being a ballerina, or to gain an impressive control of her powers even though she’d known about them for only a short time. Sometimes anger could be good and even healthy, she knew that. 

 

But anger also curdled and festered and pushed people away when she should be pulling them closer. Anger blinded her to the good things in the world even as it planted brilliant billboards around all the things that were wrong and terrible and evil.  _ Normal people would just cry. I could cry. I should cry. I would feel better. But instead I just get angry and pretend to be hitting things. Where did this even come from? My parents aren’t like this.  _

 

Kitty finally managed to peel herself from the bench and shakily walk towards the showers, wincing even at the small act of stripping out of her sweat-soaked gym clothes, though the hot water of the shower was a blessed relief. She turned up the heat as high as she could, wishing she were Danaerys Targaryen for a brief moment and that she could literally boil the pain in her muscles and joints away. Usually Kitty only spent a few minutes in the shower after a workout, but today she lingered. 

 

_ I’m going to have to apologize to Bobby. I was a complete bitchface to him. Ugh.  _ Standing under the slightly-too-hot water, normally pale skin reddening somewhat, she replayed the scenario in her head. Bobby was just trying to be nice and she’d basically bitten his head for that. He’d offered to get her some cold drinks and a snack and in return, she might as well have told him to fuck off.  _ Some girlfriend I am. Can’t even tell him to leave me alone nicely.  _

 

Finally, reluctantly, she left the shower and towelled off, the sudden cold of the changeroom sending a shiver through her. She went to her locker and found her clothes, quickly dressing and then heading out of the locker room, towards the kitchen, because now as she was starting to simmer down, she realized that she really was hungry. 

  
As Kitty walked into the kitchen, her eyes almost immediately met with Bobby’s- though he quickly averted his gaze, looking down and away, almost flinching away from her. She looked down herself, unable to say anything for the moment and went to the fridge to see what there was for cold drinks. Some iced tea or lemonade would’ve been best, but seeing mostly soft drinks, she grabbed a Coke, which was at least blessedly cold. 

 

Kitty turned around, ready to apologize to Bobby, but he was gone, probably scared off by her. She sighed sadly and dragged herself over to the kitchen table, sitting down and opening her drink. Any joy she might normally have got from the blessedly sweet and fizzy beverage was dissipated, though. The hot water had helped a little, but her muscles and joints were still less than pleased with her, and Bobby, well, he was clearly not ready to talk to her right now. 

 

_ But I’d better at least try.  _

 

Not really wanting to move from her spot, she instead pulled out her phone and write out a text to Bobby. Sometimes when she deigned to text, it was full of emojis and colourful variations on netspeak, but right now she decided to be simple and to the point about it. 

 

**Hey. I’m sorry.**

 

She took another sip of her drink and watched her phone for a few minutes, hoping that an answer would come, dreading what that answer would be. It took about three minutes for the notification to arrive. 

 

**Its ok. R u ok?**

 

Kitty was tempted to lie and make up some ridiculous excuse for the way she’d snapped at him, that it was that time of month, that she’d got a lousy test mark. But would lying do any good? What use would there be in just hiding things, for her anger to just build and build? What if next time, instead of just snapping at him a little, she really tore into him?

 

**No. It’s official. Really official. My parents are splitting up.**

 

Kitty sat there and stared at the text message for a good five minutes before pressing send and when she had, she closed her eyes, feeling, at long last, the tears start to come. She took a deep breath, the exhalation coming out as a loud sob. She’d admitted it, she’d written it down, she’d told someone else. It somehow felt more real now and making it real, made the tears come, first one drop at a time, but then as a virtual flood, her shoulders shaking with the sobs. 

When Bobby came, he didn’t say anything immediately, just wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, which did nothing to stop the tears, but did feel good. She put her head on his shoulder and continued to cry, probably soaking him, holding onto him just as tightly as he held onto her. After awhile, the tears stopped coming and she just gratefully held onto him. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Kitty whispered. “I’m … I’ve got a real problem with getting mad. With being angry. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Hey, it’s okay, you were- I mean, I should have got the hint. I mean, you were probably really messed up and here I am offering you snacks and stuff.” Bobby replied softly. “Don’t worry about it.” 

 

Kitty pulled away just a little and looked him in the eyes. “I did need some alone time. But it doesn’t mean it was okay to snap at you like that.” 

 

“It wasn’t that bad.” Bobby countered. “You told me to leave you alone. It’s not like … it’s not like you, you know, like, hit me or anything.” There was an awkward pause there. “I’ve, uh, I’ve dealt with a lot worse. Trust me. But …” He paused awkwardly again. “The way you looked at me was a little scary.” He looked at her a little sheepishly. “I mean, I know it’s stupid, but … you  _ really  _ looked mad and I got a little scared.” Bobby looked down at the ground, turning red. 

 

Kitty felt a sudden twinge in both her gut and her heart at the same time. “Bobby.” She breathed softly. She had a horrible, horrible feeling about why he’d got so scared by her snapping at him. Why he’d flinched like a beaten puppy. She’d known he had a poor relationship with his family, with his stepfather in particular. She was starting to wonder just how bad things were in the Drake home. 

 

“I … I don’t really want to get into it right now.” Bobby spoke quietly. “But there’s, there’s a reason that I get nervous when people are mad at me. And there’s a reason I never go home, like, ever. I mean, this  _ is  _ home for me. It’s the only home I’ve known for a really long time. And I know, I know that you’d never, you know, do anything really terrible, but- and maybe I’m just a giant coward, but it’s  _ scary  _ when you get mad.” 

 

“You’re not a coward of any kind, giant or otherwise.” And even though he’d literally just told her that her anger frightened him, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of righteous rage at Bobby’s stepfather. She wanted to kick his ass desperately- which was probably kind of the problem.  _ If violence is the problem, then how could violence be the solution?  _ “... this place is kinda becoming that for me too. I mean, this sounds stupid, but one of the things that I really hate is that they’ll sell the house and I’ve lived there my whole life. And soon it’ll be gone and sold and I’ll never get to be in my room again.” 

 

“That’s not stupid. That sounds seriously shitty.” Bobby replied. “So you know, maybe it’s just another thing we have in common, right? Lousy family situations. Yay for shitty lives.” He tried to smile, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. But when she softly kissed him, it came back, shyly but warmly. It was a sight she was so glad to see that she kissed him again. 

 

She looked at him for a moment after they parted. “I’ll try to work on my ridiculous anger issues. I really will. Maybe I just … have to talk about stuff more.” 

 

“Well, if you want to talk about stuff, I’ll gladly stop kicking your butt at video games to talk about stuff.” Bobby smiled, clearly teasing. 

 

“As if, dumbbutt. We both know that I’m totally better at video games than you.” Kitty actually smiled back, reaching out for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “But really, Bobby, I promise, I’ll try.” 

 

“Okay. I’ll … try to be better at knowing when you need some you time.” Bobby gave her hand a little squeeze back. 

 

“Sounds like a deal.” Kitty replied. “You wanna go up to your room and play some video games or something?” 

 

“Sure. Makeouts optional.” Bobby grinned. “But I warn you, you’re going to totally lose. I’ve been reading up on strategies.” 

 

“Bring it.” Kitty grinned right back at him, even through the half-dried remnant of tears. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Piotr V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three X-Men vs. an African warlord militia
> 
> Taking bets folks ...

“Stop where you are!” The sentry shouted out in, well, actually it was pretty good English, nearly as good as Piotr himself could manage. The sentry leveled an assault rifle- it looked to Piotr like an AK knockoff at his head as he called, in what he presumed was the local language, for reinforcements. In a few moments, there were at least a dozen people at the entrance to the militia camp, pointing a motley variety of guns at him. 

 

The rain poured down hard on the camp, turning the ground into mud- there were no proper roads, so very soon it would be hard for them to take off in their technicals and make a retreat. That was Ororo’s doing, and very soon, the hard rain would turn into something far more awful, a virtual land hurricane that would wreak havoc on their infrastructure. Driving hail would smash any machinery and flatten tents. Lightning strikes could demolish individual targets easily. 

 

It was a power that absolutely beggared anything that Piotr had seen before, in truth, a phenomenal force that would have demanded worship in older times. Ororo herself seemed to have no desire for worship, to her credit. But there was something of a goddess about her, and he couldn’t help but compare her to the Avenger Thor, with his supposedly magical hammer and ability to harness the power of storms. He wondered which one had the greater power over nature. 

 

The biggest difference between the two, though, was that Thor combined that mastery of the tempest with strength and durability that, at the absolute minimum, was equal to Piotr’s own- probably superior. Possibly a great deal so. For all of Ororo’s immense power, and it truly was immense- a single round from any one of those guns pointed at him could maim or kill her. 

 

Which was why Piotr came into handy, because while in his opinion, Ororo was immensely more powerful than him, he could take anything that these militiamen could throw at him. The bullets from their pistols and assault rifles would not harm him. Even the more powerful rounds from the heavier machine guns bolted onto their heavy trucks wouldn’t hurt him. Piotr had no fear of grenades or even rocket launchers- even a direct hit from the latter would likely only hurt a small amount, if at all. No real damage would be done. 

 

To them, right now, Piotr looked like an ordinary man, if exceptionally large. But there was a little bit of subterfuge being used already- the truth was that he had been in his metallic form the whole time approaching the camp, in case there was an ambush. Piotr put up his arms as if to signal surrender. 

 

“I am mercenary soldier! Looking for work.” Piotr’s English in reality was excellent- his mother had insisted on teaching it to him as a young man. He played up the Russian accent deliberately, breaking his cadence. “Serve with Russian army in Chechnya.” He kept one hand down but then beat his chest with the other one. “Spetsnaz.” That was the worst sort of lie, but he was big and strong and it was easy for him to sell fearlessness, because he didn’t fear these men. The headman back at the village had scrounged up some fierce looking knives and a slightly beaten-up AK-47 to sell the guise further. 

 

The militia men looked between each other, and then towards a slightly older, lean man with a prominently missing eye.  _ Not the warlord himself, certainly, but probably a lieutenant of some kind.  _ He nodded at the men. They didn’t lower their weapons, but they didn’t fire them either. 

 

“You’re a long way from Russia, Ivan.” The lieutenant grinned, showing teeth that he was certain had been intentionally filed into points, probably to make him look more frightening. The lieutenant himself had a rifle like the others, but he wasn’t wielding it. There were a pair of wicked, curved blades on his belt and Piotr was guessing he was liked what some of the ex-military mob enforcers called close work. 

 

“Is long way, yes.” Piotr did his best to strike a balance between looking like a confident soldier and not presenting an immediate threat. “Am very good at what I do. What I do-” He paused for a moment as if trying to find the English word. Hopefully Logan didn’t mind him stealing that phrase he’d said to him once. “Not so nice.” 

 

The lieutenant with the filed teeth and empty eye socket laughed at that, a malevolent laugh that made Piotr want to break every one of those teeth and ram them down the man’s throat. Nobody who had not done horrible things, who had not  _ enjoyed them,  _ laughed like that. The big mafiosos laughed like that. Sebastian Shaw laughed like that. “Maybe- maybe we have place for you, Big Ivan. We’re looking to add some villages to the tax rolls. You come in. Talk to the colonel.” 

 

_ Good.  _ Piotr walked in the direction he was gestured, aware that there were still a great many guns pointed at him, which was good- every man whose attention was on him wasn’t looking for Ororo somewhere in the sky or Hank in the jungle around them. He looked around at the camp- at sad-eyed women and children, boys of twelve and thirteen carrying guns and strutting about like men, but with dead eyes. 

 

Finally, he came to what looked like the centre of the camp, a big tent in the middle of it with lights and what looked like a satellite feed- possibly capable of picking up matches from the capital city or even a BBC or CNN feed. The lieutenant went into that big tent, and after a few minutes, the flaps of the tent opened and the colonel walked out. 

If the lieutenant deliberately made himself look horrifying, the colonel was clearly aiming for the opposite effect- a neatly pressed uniform, tall with an erect posture, neatly polished boots. He looked far more like a blustering martinet than some jungle warlord, but there was a palpable cold cruelty in his eyes. The militia men all stood a little straighter around him. The colonel walked a little closer to him, his eyes searching. 

 

“You said you were Spetsnaz.” And the colonel, to Piotr’s surprise, spoke in Russian and excellently at that. “Where did you serve, Ivan?” The colonel’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Surprised that I know your language? Ivans have been crawling around these jungles selling weapons since before your mother was suckling at your grandmother’s teat.”

 

The colonel gazed at him for another long moment. His eyes flashed.  _ Recognition. The man is no idiot.  _ He switched from pretty good Russian to flawless English. “This man is not what he says he is. I know true soldiers when I see them. This man is no soldier. Kill him.” The lieutenant barked the order back out in their native tongue and the camp erupted in fire. 

 

One of the first things hit was the image inducer, ironically, which shorted out the image of his flesh and revealed his metallic form fully. Piotr started running towards the colonel, bullets pinging off of his armour harmlessly like hard rain. And indeed, as the gunfire started, there was a sudden crack of lightning and a torrent of icy, surprisingly sharp sleet began falling from the skies, sending men scrambling, hiding for protection from it. 

 

The colonel started running back into his tent, but there was no escaping Piotr- who had, even as a boy, routinely surprised people with how quickly he could sprint. In his metallic form, of course, he had the huge advantage of never really tiring. He grabbed the colonel by the scruff of his neck and smashed him into the ground in front of the tent, doing his best to look terrifying. 

 

“There is nothing for you here anymore.” Piotr pressed down, the muddy ground yielding before the pressure, until the colonel’s body was almost entirely wrapped into it, just his mouth and his nose staying clear of it. “It’s over. You’ve lost.” Gunfire continued to erupt sporadically around him, but none of it had any impact on him. 

 

It was then that he was startled to feel a weight descend on him and, astonishingly, a sharp feeling of pain and the horrific scrape of metal on metal. Piotr reached back at the man who landed on his back and hurled him as far as he could, the lieutenant landing hard against one of the technicals. Piotr didn’t know if the man would be getting up from that. He reached up with a hand to pull out a knife- made of a brightly shimmering metal. Piotr put it in his belt for the moment and reached up again to the wound- it was minor, a shallow scrape that would likely require no more than a little bandaging when he returned to flesh.  _ What kind of metal was this blade made out of, though, that it could even slightly cut me?  _

 

“Tell your men to surrender.” Piotr growled at the colonel. It was then that a flash of lightning touched down on what Piotr guessed was an ammunition dump, which exploded terrifically, sending flaming debris and shrapnel over a wide area. Another lightning bolt hurtled into the fuel dump, creating another, even larger explosion. He remembered that Hank was piloting a drone at the moment, spotting targets for Ororo’s lightning. 

 

Piotr dragged the colonel out of the mud and held him up. The man started blubbering something in the men’s native language and they started putting their weapons down, terrified and overwhelmed. The driving sleet and bolts of lightning slowly came to an end, though the hard rain continued to fall on the ground. Several of them were running away, though others remained to surrender. 

 

_ Scattering these men will not ensure peace forever, though. But perhaps warlords will think twice about operating in this area .  _

 

A few minutes later, the skies opened slightly and Ororo herself descended from the clouds, as if she truly were some goddess descending from the heavens. The pace of panicked running only increased there. Piotr for his part was impressed as she gently landed upon the ground and walked up to where the colonel was, covered in mud and filth, trapped in Piotr’s grasp, clearly terrified. 

 

“These people are under my protection, now and forever. Tell whatever other vermin plan on crawling back here that anyone who harms these people will suffer my wrath. And that of my friends.” With her eyes still milky-white from her manipulation of the weather, as tall as she was, she made a truly commanding presence, despite being, at most, a year or two older than Piotr himself was. “Leave this land or be destroyed.” She added what Piotr supposed was a final threat or curse in their native tongue. 

 

“I … I understand.” The colonel blubbered. Piotr shook him a little to emphasize the point and then pushed him back onto the ground to watch him try to scramble away, the careful dignity he’d tried to maintain totally dissipated as he and the other militia soldiers scrambled away into the dark jungle. 

 

Piotr looked around the camp, at the women and a few of the younger children who had stayed as the soldiers had left. “What happens to them?” It seemed wrong to simply leave them, but there was only so much that they could do. Some of them, perhaps were from villages or tribes in the local area, but others could have been from far further away. And the jungles were not safe to traverse for anyone, let alone unarmed refugees. 

 

“The people of the villages can take them in for the time being, until they are able to make their way back home.” Ororo replied. “Some of them may choose to join the herdsmen as well. One way or another, they will be looked after.” She looked around at the scene around them, at the dark clouds of smoke from the burning fuel. There had not been many casualties in the whole operation, but there had been some- reminding himself that they were soldiers in a poor cause didn’t make Piotr feel much better about that. “I suppose that soon, you’ll be wanting me to go on a plane to America. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been there.” 

 

“I didn’t know that you ever had.” Piotr confessed. “I hadn’t, until very recently.” 

 

“One time when I was fourteen, my parents took me to New York. My father had family there. I remember being struck at how bright and clean everything was at first. And then the poverty. I have to admit, I didn’t like it much.” Ororo’s gaze turned to Piotr as her eyes slowly faded to normal. “But I am willing to give this Institute of yours a chance. Perhaps it is selfish of me to claim this little patch of the world and isolate myself from the rest of it.” 

 

“I don’t know about that.” Piotr replied. “I’m more sure that the world could really use you. I’ve … I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so impressive in my life.” Certainly he had never seen anything remotely like that display of mutant power. To command the powers of nature? It was astounding. 

 

“It is not my power to claim, really.” Ororo replied. “I guide the weather, direct it. I do not create weather myself.” She frowned slightly. “There will be a cost for the storm gathered here today. Hopefully it is one that will not fall too heavily on the people here.” The skies slowly went from an angry grey into a nearly cloudless blue. A rainbow absurdly sprung into life, refusing to acknowledge the somber realities of the moment. 

 

It was beautiful, though, and Piotr could not help but smile a little.

 

Ororo’s gaze turned towards the rainbow for a second and then she turned towards Piotr with a faint smile. “Perhaps the Mother is telling us to look on the bright side.” 

 

Piotr was an atheist, had been his whole life, but he didn’t feel like disputing theology at the moment. Whatever rainbows signified to different people, they were beautiful. “There is a silver lining to every cloud.” He smiled slightly at her. “I know you will miss this place. But I am glad you are coming with us. It is good at the Institute- Charles Xavier is a good man and there are good people around him. I am proud to help them.” Which was something that he could not always claim. 

 

“Is it a thing with mutants, where we all seem to speak well beyond our years?” Ororo smirked faintly, clearly amused by the somewhat philosophical tone of their conversation. “Shouldn’t we more properly be getting drunk in a dive bar somewhere? Is that still what normal people our age do?” 

 

“Probably, yes.” Piotr laughed slightly. “Though in America, I’m not legal to drink yet.” Which was an absurdity in his mind, but he supposed there were worse problems. “I’m not exactly  _ against  _ that, of course-” That was true, though Betsy was far more into the party scene than he’d ever be. Piotr was very often happy to simply sketch or paint on the extensive grounds of the Institute, or to tend his garden. Once upon a time, Mikhail had tormented him for what he’d considered to be ‘girly’ interests. Those had vanished when Piotr had grown up bigger and stronger- though they’d never really reconciled when Mikhail had disappeared. 

 

Piotr still wondered what exactly had happened to his brother. 

 

“Well, that was thoroughly impressive.” Hank’s voice rang out from the jungle where he finally revealed himself, piloting a small drone which shimmered out of seeming nothingness, as if he had been controlling a toy aircraft the whole time. “The capabilities of this particular militia seem to be greatly degraded.” Hank adjusted his glasses. “We should ensure that those among these people who wish to go back to the villages do so safely. Once that is accomplished, off to America?” 

 

Ororo nodded. “Off to America.” 

 

“I have the feeling that is is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Hank intoned, seemingly without a trace of irony. 

 

“Perhaps it could be.” Ororo replied with a smile, her eyes moving over to Piotr for a moment. 

  
  



	6. Rogue IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue is flying home from visiting Irene in Mississippi. 
> 
> It is not a peaceful flight home.

The angry voice in her head had finally largely faded away into silence and Rogue could finally think and feel, largely, as herself again. There had been some things that had permanently hammered themselves into her brain, largely disconnected bits and bobs of memories that occasionally floated, but a few far more discrete and significant things. Rogue was fairly sure she had about half of the skills needed to fly an aircraft, for one, she knew some of the passwords that the Avengers used for their files. 

 

She’d also learned, definitively enough, that Carol Danvers had a real taste for alcohol. That little quirk had come to the surface once about three weeks ago when she’d decided to accept the offer of a beer. The whole thing had ended with her momma very, very gingerly holding her hair back as she puked her guts out into a toilet.  _ Can’t hold my liquor like she could.  _ That little experience had fairly definitively turned her against the notion of drinking for life, she was pretty sure. 

 

Along with that particularly unpleasant little incident, there’d been a lot of other things to get used to- several objects being broken around the house as she accidentally used too much of her strength. Doorknobs, water faucets, glasses, all these things had proven to be tricky things for her to handle, especially if she got surprised or agitated somehow. 

 

There were other things, just as weird though perhaps not unpleasant- like the time when she’d taken a cup of tea and drank it without a single thought, only to realize it had literally been boiling only a moment ago. Or the time she’d rested her hand on an element for five or ten seconds, only realizing it when her sleeve had caught on fire. She’d felt it was warm, but had chalked it up to the oven having been on not long ago. She no longer needed gloves to get things from the oven- hot trays had no impact whatsoever on her flesh. 

 

She’d started trying to test her invulnerability- with whatever she had around the house that wouldn’t end up destroying it. Rogue had dunked her hand in boiling water and held it there for long enough to cook a hardboiled egg- it felt hot, but it didn’t hurt. She didn’t perceive it as any worse than a warm bath. She tried to prick her finger on a pin, to no effect. She’d accidentally broken a knife by trying to jam her hand on it. 

 

Rogue knew that she’d worried Momma- who was worried herself about something that Rogue didn’t quite know, when she’d done that. It’d taken a lot of reassurance that she wasn’t feeling suicidal or anything, but that she was simply trying to test herself. She held her hand in a flame that John had stoked, one hot enough to melt several kinds of metal. That had, eventually, started to feel uncomfortable, but probably nowhere particularly near what would actually burn her.

The diagnosis so far was that she had fully inherited Warbird’s immense strength and durability. Those were impressive abilities, to be sure, in one fell swoop, she’d gone from almost certainly the weakest person in the house, powers-wise, to probably the most powerful. She’d yet to encounter something she couldn’t lift or break, or something that could definitively hurt her. 

 

And yet, they were nowhere near the most amazing part of it all. 

 

Rogue could fly. 

 

To say that Rogue could fly was something of an understatement- she could soar as high into the sky as a commercial airliner and stay there for some minutes before the reduced oxygen made her seek lower ground. She could fly fast too- easily faster than the jetliners she’d tried chasing. Fast enough that she could break the sound barrier easily- by how much she didn’t know, but the sonic boom was an astounding thing in and of itself. 

 

Flying was  _ fun.  _ Realizing that she could shuttle herself between New York City and Mississippi, where Mom had gone back to? Priceless. The whole trip took her only a little over an hour if she pushed hard, though one time, she’d overshot and ended up over the Gulf of Mexico. Momma got a little nervous when she decided to go on long flights, but as Rogue pointed out, what was going to stop her? And maybe, just maybe, there was a part of Momma that was actually happy to see her defiant about something. 

 

Rogue was somewhere over the Appalachian Mountains of Kentucky when she saw three ominous, large figures coming out of the sky heading towards her. They looked vaguely human-shaped but were considerably larger than humans. Not wanting to take any risks, Rogue started to accelerate, breaking the sound barrier handily as she streaked through the skies. It didn’t take long before she couldn’t see those large, ominous forms anymore. 

 

_ What were those things? And how’d they know I was in the air?  _ Rogue honestly didn’t know any of the answers to those questions, but she disliked that she even had to ask them.  _ They were following me, but I think I lost them.  _ That didn’t say a whole lot, though- she could travel faster than the speed of sound. They didn’t look like they were moving any faster than an ordinary commercial airliner.

 

Then she remembered what Dr. Lehnsherr had been blathering on about most recently-  _ Sentinels, he called them.  _ Robotic weapons systems designed to hunt down and capture or even kill mutants.  _ The way he talked about `em, though, it sounded like they weren’t coming for months yet at least. If I glimpsed three of them, that means they’re at least at the prototype stage. Which means that they could be showing up uninvited at any time.  _

 

It was an easy thought to have. If she were a mutant-hunting killer robot, she’d want to be in New York, where it was well-known that mutants had tended to congregate in certain areas, where a large boarding school full of mutants was only a short commute away. Rogue redoubled her energies to fly back to New York as quickly as possible.  _ Gotta make sure I tell Momma and the others.  _

 

She was so focused on the task that she didn’t perceive the missiles until they were too late and she was struck in a terrific wave of force and heat which thoroughly ruined her clothes and sent her spiralling towards the dirt at horrific speed. Winded and almost knocked unconscious by the direct hit, she managed to regain control of herself just in time to avoid an impact that, while probably not fatal, would’ve certainly hurt a great deal. 

 

_ I’m being shot at! Bastards!  _

 

Rogue shot up again, but made sure not to stay too straight, too direct as she hurtled up into the night sky, as high as she could, knowing that they’d certainly try to shoot at her again. She soared above the cloudtops and waited for a few seconds, and then nearly gasped as the missiles shot out of the cloud layer and came hurtling towards her. She decided to take a risk then and dive, down as fast as she could, hurtling like a falcon soaring at its prey, missiles following her, nipping at her heels. She streaked down as low as she could across the ground, only a few dozen feet in front of the air. 

 

As she figured, the missiles were unable to readjust quite quickly enough and they slammed into the ground with a terrific explosion. Absurdly, she realized what little she’d been wearing at the time had almost totally burned away as the result of the missile impact-  _ great, not only am I being shot at, but now I gotta make my big move buck naked too. Wonderful.  _ Rogue suspected that the batteries couldn’t catch anything that was flying low enough, or would they risk firing them into an urban area- which meant that a lot of people were going to get a better view of her than she would’ve liked. 

 

_ At least I’m flyin’ fast enough, they’ll barely notice. Whole thing gives a new definition to streakin’ through the sky, though.  _

 

Rogue continued for a few minutes before realizing, with a sudden wash of horror, that she had been travelling the wrong way- heading due south rather than northeast. She frantically turned around and started hurtling in the right direction, but almost immediately she spotted the strange things again- now clearly humanoid robots, descending from the evening sky. This time they didn’t hesitate, but opened fire and she had to do her best to avoid the energy blasts, ducking and weaving with a desperate agility that frankly amazed her. 

 

_ I wonder. I wonder if my only way out is through.  _

 

Rogue continued to bob and weave about in the sky, but this time, she was headed straight for what she could only assume were the Sentinels, doing her best to dodge their energy blasts, succeeding so far- getting closer, close enough to hope. Then the Sentinel blasted something out of its chest rather than its hands and even that small change of tactics caught Rogue off guard, the feeling of the energy blast hitting her like a brick wall and slamming her into the ground. 

 

Rogue was still conscious, but decidedly winded as she hit the ground, blasting a crater into it. She groaned slightly as she crawled out of the hole she’d left in the ground, gasping for breath as she was struck again by one of their energy blasts, forcing her to the ground. Another one hit her simultaneously. None of them were sufficient to quite knock her out, but she realized their strategy soon enough, as the third started blasting her. She couldn’t generate enough lift to halt them- and with so much concussive pressure on her, she couldn’t  _ breathe.  _

 

_ God, no, I’m not going out like this. I ain’t!  _ Rogue had no idea where the burst of strength came from, but she found some way to hurtle out of the simutaneous energy blasts, taking a massively ragged gulp and, deciding that caution was the better part of valour, begin flying as quickly as she could again. The Sentinels fired their blasts and one clipped her, but she managed to keep her bearings.  _ If I’m right, I’m faster than they are. Might not be able to take on three of them at once, but I think I can outrun them.  _

 

Rogue didn’t dare look back, but soon enough, at least they stopped firing at her. She kept low to the ground and fast as she could, slipping between buildings quickly as she started going into the New York metropolitan area, exhaling a sigh of relief as she passed the Statue of Liberty. She hurtled into Manhattan and towards the row of brownhouses where her Momma and the others lived, towards the place where Erik had, in a typically grandiose moment, declared a ‘brother and sisterhood of mutants’. 

 

Rogue floated down, more slowly out of necessity now, towards the attic window that she habitually left open- breathing a sigh of not inconsiderable relief that it was and slipped inside her room.  _ First, I’m gonna find some damn clothes, because last thing I need is for those boys to be starin’ while I tell Momma what happened.  _ Rogue brushed the few tiny shreds of singed clothing off of her and scrambled to put some new ones on quickly- she didn’t much care that the yoga pants and hoodie didn’t match at the moment. 

 

Once she dressed, she started to walk downstairs, but didn’t even quite make it before Momma stopped her, her hands wrapping around Rogue’s shoulders, her eyes locked on hers. 

 

“You are never fucking doing that again.” Momma’s voice shook audibly. “I’ve already seen it. You can’t do that. You’re a target now, you have to be careful. Irene’s-” 

 

“Mom will know I’m okay.” Rogue replied, realizing now as the adrenaline of it wore off, that she was scared too. Terrified, even. “I’m okay. I … what did they say on the news? Did they talk about … I saw them. The Sentinels that Mr. Lehnsherr talks about. I saw them. They attacked me. Would’ve got me, but … I guess I’m a little too fast for them.” 

 

“I’ll pass that on to him.” Raven replied, but there was a coolness there that surprised here. It made Rogue wonder if something was up between the two of them, because Dr. Lehnsherr hadn’t visited in a little while. “God, though, come in. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. And … you should have a shower or a bath or something soon. You’re covered in ashes.” 

 

“Heh, yeah, funny thing about missiles is that they’re hell on the wardrobe.” Rogue tried to make light of the situation, but when she was poured a cup of hot tea, she could barely hold it for all the shaking. “I … I guess I don’t need to test how tough I am anymore. I got shot by a missile, I think the same missiles they use to shoot down planes and it didn’t even knock me out.” 

 

“... well, shit.” Raven whistled, but then her face grew more serious again. “It doesn’t change anything. It was crazy to just fly from New York City to fucking Mississippi before this- now it’s suicidal. You’re not doing that again. Now you’re going to phone your Mom. Clairvoyance or not, she’s going to be worried sick. Alive isn’t the same thing as unharmed and you know her visions aren’t always precise. I’ll get some food ready for you while you go.” 

 

Rogue might have rolled her eyes under other circumstances, but she wasn’t going to do that now. Her own phone had been thoroughly wrecked by the impact of the missile against her, but she could use the phone that Raven had set up as an untraceable alternative to traditional landlines. She picked up the phone a little haltingly and started dialing the number. 

 

“Anna-Marie.” The voice on the other end of the phone was soft and while certainly concerned-sounding, hardly panicked. “Thank you for calling me. Raven must be worried sick about you.” 

 

“She was … I’m worried sick about me. But I’m okay. Guess a little missile can’t kill me.” Rogue took a deep breath and tried to take a sip of tea, but that ended up in having tea sloshing over her hoodie. “Dammit. Sorry. I can’t even hold a cup of tea. I’m not used to having giant robots after me. But I’m okay. Made it back in one piece. Can’t say the same about that sundress you like so much. I’m afraid it’s toast. But it’s okay, I’m safe.” 

 

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. 

 

“Yes, of course. Thank goodness.” 

  
Rogue’s heart sank and she felt her stomach twist into a knot. She loved her Mom and knew her as well as she knew anyone. 

 

Mom was lying.

 

Rogue felt a chill in her spine and then the phone and the teacup both shattered in her hands. 

  
  



	7. Pietro IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro is the world's biggest dickbutt. 
> 
> Why Raven entrusted him to deliver a sensitive message? We'll never know.

Pietro wasn’t quite sure why he’d volunteered to be Raven’s messenger- it meant that at the very least he’d have to go back to the Institute and inquire after Kurt, which would be weird and almost certainly mean an unpleasant confrontation with Wanda. Pietro knew that she was angry that he’d left, but how could he stay? Charles had kicked their father out and even though Pietro had a lot of deep-seated issues with his father, he didn’t want to just abandon the man.

Besides, Dad was right. The idea that people could just hold hands and sing and that everything would somehow be okay was the most monstrous lie he could imagine being concocted. It was the rankest bullshit and he knew, deep down, he knew that Wanda knew better too. Wanda’s probably was that she was too attached to her friends from the Institute, to Scott and to Jean. And, evidently, not attached enough to her actual father and actual brother.

It was easier to think fuck Wanda, though, in the abstract, because the truth was that he loved his sister and he missed her, however combative they could be sometimes. They weren’t even just regular siblings, they were twins. They were literally born together, Pietro had emerged a mere ten minutes before Wanda did. That made him the older brother- and what a job he’d done with that. Let’s face it, I’m pretty much just a fuckup.

At least I can run fast, though. Pietro could make the run in a matter of minutes- and it’d be even less if he didn’t have to worry about the relative urban tangle of New York City. Out in the relatively open roadways and countryside of the more rural parts of Westchester County, he could rip at just over the speed of sound, even the fastest cars seeming to no more than amble along.

When Pietro was running, things actually felt okay. He didn’t have to stand around for what seemed like eons while someone else was talking, or even worse, stand in line. He could just run and run as far as his feet could take him. Sometimes Pietro fantasized about just running in a random direction until he couldn’t run anymore. He wondered how far he could get- how far he could just run away from all of his problems in life.

That wouldn’t be today, however, he had a job to do. Maybe it’d been stupid of him to offer to help Raven out, but then again, maybe it was the only decent thing he could’ve done. He could scarcely imagine what it was like hearing that your kid, who you thought was lost to you forever, had just turned up less than an hour’s drive away. Raven was absolutely hellbent on seeing him any way she could and while Pietro wouldn’t precisely nominate her for any Mom of the Year awards, well, she seemed a lot more into her kids than his own father did.

Speaking of that, his situation at the House had grown more precarious as a result of Raven finding out about Kurt. Whether though arrogant obliviousness or because he had some secret agenda, Erik either hadn’t thought to tell Raven about the blue-furred kid living at the Institute, or had decided for some mysterious and awful reason to keep it to himself. All in all, it struck Pietro as a remarkably shitty thing to do to a woman, who supposedly, Dad had a relationship with that spanned decades.

He was getting close to the Institute now, towards the sleepy rich-white-people surburb of Salem Center, where the Xavier Institute for the Gifted had been built, a fucking gigantic campus that dominated the community. Pietro had always thought that Salem Center was a pretty lame place. One small blessing about being at the House was that he got to live in New York City which, though it needed more good running tracks, was admittedly a pretty awesome place to live. Things actually happened in New York, which is more than he could have ever said about Salem Center.

He didn’t need to knock at the gate or do anything embarrassing like that, because as it happened, a jeep containing the runty grump Logan and some chick had pulled up at the gate. It was pretty easy to best the security and dash through- though he supposed it didn’t matter much anyway. If pressed, he could’ve gone around the long way, eventually there was open country into the Mansion’s huge grounds. Or he could have knocked at the door and be let in.

But why knock when you can just dash in?

Pietro quickly passed the gate and started scanning the grounds, making sure that Kurt wasn’t inside before he entered the Institute- he had a key still, so that part would be pretty simple. Though he didn’t think his hearing was in any way superhuman enhanced- he’d always had a pretty sharp pair of ears and he often picked up on sounds that other people didn’t. And that was telling him that his sister was outside- which was a little weird, because Wanda was hardly ever outside in daylight hours.

Also, she was laughing. What the hell was up with that? Wanda didn’t laugh very often, unless she was stoned, and she only laughed like that when she was either really stoned or actually happy and when had the last time that been? Wanda dealt with her pain by snarking, Pietro did so by sulking and running. That was the established rhythm of things. Pietro wondered what the hell could have happened to change that.

Then he heart a second voice- and it was the voice of the guy he was looking for- that heavily German-accented voice would be recognizable anywhere. Kurt had always struck him as a bit of an avoidant sulker- which made Kurt one of the new arrivals he liked the best. He was down with any guy who had transportation powers that he sometimes used to avoid the unpleasantness of life. Pietro’s super speed was way cooler than Kurt’s relatively limited-range teleporting, but hey, a guy couldn’t have everything in life, right?

Pietro moved closer to the source of the sound in a blink of an eye, his eyes first widening at the sight and then narrowing as he watched his sister Wanda guiding a slightly apprehensive, but obviously happy Kurt onto the frozen water of a small pond, laughing and smiling, their eyes all over each other. Pietro immediately felt disgruntled at that sight- both for the selfish reason that how dare Wanda be happy when he was so manifestly miserable and also, at Kurt for daring to put his fuzzy hands on his sister.

He continued moving quietly around them, watching Kurt quickly gain confidence on the skates, which must have been specially made for him, because the dude’s huge-ass feet wouldn’t fit into any normal skates. He watched Kurt make eyes at his twin sister and Wanda just as disgustingly into him. She laughed again and that just pissed him off because, what, did having a boyfriend just magically take away all their troubles?

Soon after that they kissed and they really had no shame about that, because it was pretty manifestly obvious that their tongues were all up into each other’s throats. All this was turning Pietro’s already sort of miserable and sulky mood into something downright murderously unpleasant. The last thing on Earth he wanted to deal with was Wanda and some boy being cute and happy together. How dare she? And why the fuck am I so mad about this? Get a grip, Pietro.

Pietro resolved to ruin the pleasant scene as quickly as possible and dashed out onto the ice, whirling around them at several hundred miles per hour, making it obvious to even the most disgustingly self-absorbed couple that he was here. He had a message to deliver but maybe, maybe he could ruin a romantic moment while he was at it, because how dare people have romantic moments when he … he was confused to say the least.

It wasn’t about getting laid- that was never particularly a challenge at the House, with Tabby clearly being happy to fuck him on a pretty regular basis. But while he figured she was pretty hot and all, she just didn’t seem his type. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to wonder if girls weren’t his type. Definitely, he thought John was a lot more attractive than Tabby, even if he was a bit of a drama king and a serious punk.

That was also annoying him about Wanda right now, because for her, bisexuality had always been this cool thing that people had never had trouble accepting, even the object of her complete obsession that was also straight as a plank. Sure, nobody at the Institute had ever given him any trouble for it, but it annoyed him that Wanda could just up and date some guy and seemingly be happy and Pietro had to angst like an idiot about whether he was actually gay or not.

It might have been spiteful, and Pietro might feel awful about it later, but right now, all his miserable depressed ass could look forward to was bursting Wanda’s inexplicable happy little bubble.

“Pietro.” Wanda’s voice came out. “Stop running around us like a fucking idiot. If you have something to say, then stop and say it.”

“I don’t know about that.” Pietro shouted out. “Maybe I’d rather just run arou-” His triumphant dash was broken as a patch of ice inexplicably become wet and slipplier than usual and he went flying, face first, into a snowbank, his entire head stuck inside of it for a ridiculous moment, his ass doubtlessly hilariously flopping around much to the merriment of Wanda and Kurt.

Pietro managed to extricate himself and glared at Wanda. “Great to see that you’re doing so well, seeing as you’re shacked up with the people who kicked out your family.”

“Charles kicked out Father- for a very good reason.” Wanda sighed harshly. “You didn’t have to go. You made that choice yourself, Pietro.”

Pietro looked at Kurt and Wanda for a long moment. “You know what though? I’m not here to fight. I’m here to deliver a message. For you. Well, now it’s a message and a word of warning. Because I’m a nice guy like that and because you deserve to know the truth on a couple of scores, I guess. One of them Wanda can’t tell you about because she doesn’t fucking know. And the other? She won’t tell you because I promise that will ruin your lovely little skate-date.”

Kurt stepped a little closer. “I don’t know why you feel the need to be so unpleasant, but right now, the last thing I wish to do is listen to you.” He looked over at Wanda. “I can take us back to the Institute if you wish.” Pietro kind of hated that Kurt was being so mature about it. He would’ve welcomed a chance to throw down at that point.

“... no.” Wanda replied and looked at him and maybe Kurt’s surprising show of maturity was washing off on her too, because now she looked far more sad than angry, and that really shook Pietro’s resolve to be a jackass. “Why are you being cruel, Pie-Pie?” It wasn’t mocking this time, she seemed really, really broken up about it.

“You left us.” Pietro reminded her pointedly. “You … you gave up on family. Mom wanted us to stay together and you quit. But this is not actually why I’m here. I’ve actually got a really important message for the fuzzball here.”

“If you’ve got an important message, then you’ll say it and you will not treat either of us with disrespect. Neither of us are obliged to hear you be abusive towards us.” Kurt replied firmly, still being infuriatingly mature about the whole thing, but at least Pietro could take a small joy in realizing that he’d ruined their stupid little romantic moment.

“Fine. I know where your mother is.” Pietro had been smart enough to get a picture of Raven to hold up, because the claim probably sounded ridiculous, but it was a lot easier with an image of an obviously blue-skinned woman to hold up. “Look at that. Same blue skin- less furry though. Yellow eyes. Was forced to give up a blue furry baby to Gypsies in a fucking circus.”

Kurt was silent for a long moment and Pietro knew that Kurt knew, that he wasn’t able to deny it because it was obvious, because he felt something immediately. His blue fur made it basically impossible for Pietro to see if Kurt was going pale, but it was easy to imagine it was the case. Wanda instinctively reached for Kurt’s hand and that pissed Pietro off, but he could drop the other bomb soon enough. Or if Wanda did something to piss him off.

“Where is she?” Kurt replied, his voice tight. “If Erik has done anything to her …”

Pietro couldn’t help but start laughing at that- he thinks I’m delivering a fucking ransom demand. It was the funniest thing he heard in a long time, so funny that he didn’t act in time to have Kurt on him, grabbing him by his coat and glaring at him intensely. Pietro realized that his earlier half-wish for a throwdown might actually be coming true.

“I find nothing about this funny.” Kurt’s teeth were sharp. He also had fantastic cheekbones, though Pietro shut that down immediately, because if he was going to get into a fight over this, he wasn’t going to do it while getting a raging boner for some guy who was probably fucking his sister. Pietro had standards and that was way, way below them.

“Dude, Erik would never hurt her.” Pietro tried his best to enunciate his words carefully, so that Kurt understood them. “I mean, they’re pretty much boyfriend and girlfriend. Not pretty much. I mean, seriously-” He thought of something all of the sudden. “I mean, fuck, Wanda, back me up here. Dad banged probably like every woman in Europe back in the day. I mean … god, Erik could be your dad, for all I know.”

“That’s just some bullshit you’re making up.” Wanda replied caustically. “And if you’re asking me to put a word in for Father, you’re out of your fucking mind. He’d throw anyone under the bus if it could bring him one step closer to bringing his plans to fruition. I don’t know what this woman’s like, but-”

“Wanda.” Kurt replied, reluctantly letting Pietro go. “Where is she?” Kurt’s gaze settled back on Pietro, far from friendly but not looking like he was about to try to kick his ass anytime soon.

“Manhattan. She’ll meet you at some German restaurant, the Gasthaus. Look it up on your phone. Tomorrow night at 8.” Pietro managed a little smile. “See, you don’t need to be so ridiculously fucking angry. I’m here to help. And here’s a little piece of information.” Pietro leaned in close and whispered. “Wanda is in love with Jean Grey, always has been, always will be. You’re just keeping her side of the bed warm.”

The blow came swiftly enough, but it was child’s play for Pietro to dodge it. “Shall I tell her you’ll be there?”

Kurt glared at him murderously. “Yes.” Pietro swore, though, up close, that he was shaking. Mission accomplished. Both the giving of information and the epic trolling. On that note, and before Wanda could butt in with anything further, Pietro streaked out of the Institute grounds as quickly as he could and started running back to the House to tell Raven.


	8. Kurt IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt meets his mother for the first time since just after he was born. 
> 
> There is a twist ending.

Kurt gave his chauffeur, Wanda, a lingering goodbye kiss and stepped out into the cool night air in front of the German restaurant that he’d been told his mother was waiting for him inside. Or maybe she’d arrive later. He didn’t know. There was very little that Kurt felt that he really knew at that point. He just knew that, even though Pietro had been incredibly cruel in their encounter, the moment he’d seen the picture, that the woman he called Raven  _ was  _ his mother. 

 

_ God, give me the strength.  _ Kurt took a deep breath of the cool air and walked up to the door of the restaurant, trying to ignore the uncomfortable posture and unpleasant sartorial arrangements that his image inducer require of him. He’d been practicing some and it wasn’t quite as bad as before- he’d also found a slightly more comfortable way of tucking his tail, but it was still terribly unpleasant, and didn’t make his task any easier. It didn’t help, also, that his knees were feeling a little gelatinous. 

 

Kurt had so many questions to ask, but he didn’t know if it was an appropriate time to ask any of them, what their meeting would look like, what his mother would be like. Judging by the picture- she was beautiful, and strangely young-looking for someone who should have been, probably, at least well into their forties, though he didn’t know how old she’d been when he was born. Perhaps part of the reason she left him at the circus was that she was too young and too scared. Or maybe her mutant abilities either hid or negated age. Logan was well over a century old, but perpetually looked slightly south of forty. 

 

That was only a small part of it though- it really wasn’t that important what his mother looked like, but what sort of person she was. Nobody at the Institute knew much of anything about her. Kurt had to wonder about her taste in men, though- certainly Erik Lehnsherr was a handsome man, but he was arrogant and distant. They’d only been together a short while, but he’d already got a glimpse of the scars left on Wanda’s soul from having the man for her father. He felt a sudden pang of guilt. Wanda had been so supportive of him, even after what happened with Pietro, but he knew that she wouldn’t see  _ her  _ mother again, until she met her again in Heaven. 

 

_ And if you may, give me the strength to forgive Pietro. Bitterness like his can only come from deep-seated pain.  _ Kurt understood that, understood that only a deeply unhappy person could be so possessed by the urge to hurt others, but he still wanted to punch Pietro in the face. It astonished him how a brother, a twin no less, could want to say such cruel things to his sister. Kurt didn’t want to give himself too much credit, but he felt pretty sure that Wanda was happier with him than she was without him. Pietro had seen that and he’d done his best to ruin it. 

 

The ridiculous canard about Erik had been easy enough to dismiss- even Pietro’s very tone of voice put the lie to it, it was a clumsy toss of a verbal grenade that failed to go off. It was the stuff about Jean that hit much closer to home- he remembered very well the quiet, pale look that Wanda had as he’d left. Kurt had known then, that there was some truth to that. Kurt had to admit that he felt a sudden, strong pang of jealousy then and that it still remained in there, quietly festering away.  _ God, cut away all my unworthiest thoughts.  _ But at the same time, his even stronger urge was to reach out for her, hold her, tell her it was all right. 

 

There  _ was  _ something between the two of them, new as it all was, something that was worth holding onto and fighting for. Kurt knew they both brought a great and bewildering collection of emotional and spiritual scars. He certainly had his own demons. But perhaps, together, they could put some of those specters to rest and move on.  _ We’ve only been together for a very short while and I haven’t even known her that long- but it seems like so much more than that.  _

 

Kurt took another breath of the cool evening air and walked inside the restaurant, scanning around to see if he saw her. He saw her in the back of the restaurant, in a corner booth. Her blue skin had taken on a peach complexion and the red hair had become a more natural auburn, but there was no mistaking the features. And as they met, her eyes briefly flashed a glowing yellow, rather than the green that they appeared to be. Gathering his courage, he walked over to the corner booth. 

 

Sliding in, he realized that a  _ Maẞ  _ of beer had already been placed on the table before him, glistening with condensed moisture. He blushed and looked upwards at his mother for the first time since he was a tiny baby. 

 

“... I’m not 21.” Kurt said to his mother who he hadn’t seen in very nearly seventeen years. His  _ mother.  _ Kurt could’ve hung himself for opening with such a stupid comment. 

 

“Pretty sure I know exactly how old you are.” Raven smiled easily. “But we’re Germans and a little beer’ll help things along nicely, don’t you think?” 

 

Kurt found it hard to argue with that logic, though with a full  _ Maẞ,  _ he’d definitely be feeling it by the end of the meal. He managed a little laugh. “That we are.” And now he’d switched entirely to German. “Thank you.” He realized that he could discern her accent now- for a boy he’d grown up in Bavaria and Austria, it was a bit of a shock to found out that his mother was a Berliner. 

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I figured I could really use a beer and it’s kind of douchey to sit here and drink a giant beer while you have some horrific American sugar water concoction.” Raven smiled, though Kurt could sense a little nervousness behind the smile. “... how is the Institute?” 

“It is good, the people are kind.” Kurt replied. “It is rarely boring, with so many mutants around, as you can imagine.” His reply was still a little guarded. Even though she was his mother, he didn’t know her at all. Kurt was starting to get a few impressions of her, though. He suspected they wouldn’t be discussing theology any time soon. Berliners never had much time for religion- he remembered well his mother, the mother who’d raised him, ranting about godless Berliners. 

 

“Good.” Raven took a long drink from her glass, and Kurt did the same. He had to admit, he’d awfully missed beer. It was disconcerting to think that he wouldn’t be legal for some years yet. Frankly, it baffled him how someone could be old enough to kill and die for their country, but not somehow old enough to order a beer in a bar. She looked like she was about to say something afterwards, but thought better of it. 

 

Kurt realized that he didn’t really know what to call her. He couldn’t really call her Mother, she hadn’t raised him all those years. There was little to call her but ‘Raven’, but he knew that, even though she may understand why he chose to do that, that it would hurt a little. Of course it would. It was hard for him to maintain a simple conversation, too, without asking any of the big questions. 

 

“... why did you leave me?” Kurt meant it without malice, he really did. 

 

Raven took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, as if recalling painful memories. “I was being hunted. I worked for German intelligence. My job was to hunt down and neutralize East German spies, well, until East Germany stopped being a thing. After unification, they shifted me to general anti-terrorist work. Ran smack dab against HYDRA doing that, so they started chasing after me. Them and the FSB, who hadn’t forgotten me when they stopped being the KGB. When I became pregnant ... “ She paused for a moment.

 

“Go on.” Kurt encouraged, softly. 

 

“My superiors wanted me to have an abortion. Who can blame them, really? I didn’t think much of it at the time. But for whatever reason, I decided not to. I think, I think at the time, I just wanted to give my superiors a big ‘fuck you’. But I didn’t. I thought that maybe I could just have you and get out of the game for awhile. I’d been doing intelligence for awhile, I thought it was time for a break. 

 

But it wasn’t that simple. HYDRA and the FSB weren’t going to let me go. They sicced their biggest, baddest assets on me. And I was good, damn good. But somewhere in Bavaria, I got word that the Russians had sent out the Winter Soldier. I didn’t know if I’d make it, period, but I knew I wouldn’t with a child. And I knew … if they found you, they’d either kill you or turn you into one of their brainwashed assassins. 

 

So I made the best choice I could.” Raven took a long swallow of her beer and then turned to face him. “I’m sorry I left you, but you … it’s probably for the better that I gave you up. I’m not winning any Mother of the Year awards. So, I understand if you’re angry and if you want to tell me to fuck off, well, you’ve got that right.” 

 

“I’m not going to.” Kurt replied firmly. “It sounds like you were put … in an impossible situation. It is not as if we can pretend the past never happened, but … well, here we are. We’re both here. Alive and by all appearances, well enough.” Kurt quaffed his beer and set down the huge mug. “But … do not send Pietro in the future.” It might have come across as something like a joke, but Kurt was serious about it. 

 

“Trust me when I say that I flayed that fucker alive. I honestly thought he’d have the sense to keep the assholery to a reasonable minimum. He won’t be delivering any more messages in the future.” Raven shook her head. “I know the kiddo’s got issues, but I didn’t know the chip on his shoulder was quite  _ that  _ large. Though I mean, he did see you making out with his twin sister. Men get weird about things like that.” 

 

She grinned broadly. “So, Wanda Lehnsherr. How’s that going?” 

 

“Good. Very good.” Kurt was glad that his dark fur hid the blush. He wondered if it was the beer loosening his tongue, but he felt oddly capable of speaking freely with this woman he’d just met. She didn’t precisely come across as motherly- she didn’t seem a whole lot more mature than he was, frankly, but still, there was something of an instant connection. 

 

“Well, if her dad’s anything to go by …” Raven looked like she was about to make a vulgar joke but then sighed a little harshly. “She’s going to be insanely attractive, an absolute sexual be-”

 

“Please!” Kurt didn’t want to hear that from his mother or anyone who was even vaguely associated with that honorific. When the time came, he’d find that out for himself. Wanda certainly could be passionate, though. It also didn’t help to have that connected to her father, who Kurt rather despised, probably more than just about any living person. 

 

“And someone who will never ever give themselves to you, fully. I mean, maybe it’s not an issue for you, but you kind of strike me as a straight shooter. If she’s like her father, don’t expect her to ever be completely 100% honest with you.” Raven took a long, long drink of her beer, which was now significantly more empty than it was full. “Don’t look at me to tell you to quit, though. I’ve been wrapped up with Erik Lehnsherr for decades.” 

 

“Why?” Kurt asked softly. “Perhaps I do not know him that well, but he doesn’t seem … worthy of you.” Or any reasonably decent person. Bluntly, Erik’s face was desperately asking for a three-fingered fist.  _ God, please temper my anger. Punching my girlfriend’s father in the face is probably unwise, no matter how much I may think he deserves it.  _

 

“That’s cute that you’re already being protective of your old mother after mere minutes.” Raven laughed and then took a breath. “I’m really, really angry with him right now. I don’t know whether he didn’t connect the dots or if he kept the truth from me somehow. But I’m also pretty realistic. I’m in love with him, and he … he likes to think he loves me. Sometimes he even believes it. But he’s always been about the big picture.” 

 

Kurt could have said any number of things in response to that, but he held his tongue. It was clearly a significant, emotional thing for Raven to reveal that to him- a sign of trust. He wasn’t going to spoil that immediately by unkind words or by dragging in a philosophical mess. He was quite certain, though, that Wanda wasn’t like that at all. And neither, he thought, was Pietro.  _ And therein is the problem, the crux of it, isn’t it? Erik Lehnsherr sees the world in grand strokes and has no time for the petty emotional needs of others.  _

 

“There’s somebody else you should meet some day. You have, in a roundabout way, a sister.” Raven took out her phone to show a picture of a pretty girl with a distinctive white stripe running through auburn hair and bright green eyes. “Her name’s Anna-Marie, but most people just call her Rogue. I think you two would get along well. Maybe sometime, you could come to the House. A couple of the boys who live there are actually really good cooks. Fred makes the best damn fried chicken you’ve ever had. I promise.” 

 

“I’d like that.” Kurt had a few apprehensions about that, but he decided that he would, indeed, like to get to know this woman. Also, he liked fried chicken. It was basically the American schnitzel. Speaking of schnitzel, he was kind of hungry. He wasn’t sure if Raven had really intended this to involve a meal or just some beer. Not that he was going to criticize beer. He missed beer. A German deprived of his beer was a sad creature indeed. 

 

“I’m going to use my psychic powers and guess you’re hungry. There’s an absolutely fuckmassive platter of delicious German-esque things coming right now. And I’m going to get another beer and you can at any point. You didn’t drive here, did you?” Raven laughed. “Because if you did, you’ll be visiting overnight sooner than you thought.” 

 

“I didn’t.” Kurt replied. “Actually, Wanda drove me here. She’s got evening service at the synagogue and they usually have a meal afterwards.” As of late, it seemed that Wanda had become more interested in exploring her Jewish identity- Kurt knew that Erik had always discouraged that. Either way, of course, it was her decision, but he actually kind of liked it. A religious man himself, it was difficult for him to quite understand people who didn’t seem to have spirituality.  _ There’s more to heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy.  _

 

“Try keeping up with me, and she’ll be carrying you into that car.” Raven’s eyes flashed brightly. “And there it is. Food.” 

 

The tray was indeed pretty massive, absolutely groaning with bratwursts and schnitzels and spaetzle, red cabbage and sauerkraut, boiled potatoes and croquettes. Another waitress was carrying another large platter with a basket full of bread and all the appropriate sauces and condiments. It looked like it was originally intended for a lot more than simply two people, but looking at it, Kurt didn’t doubt that he could eat half of it. It’d been a very long time since he’d had good German food. The Institute’s food was fine, good even, but it’d been painfully long since he’d had a good schnitzel or bratwurst. 

 

The waitresses were dressed in  _ dirndls,  _ though cut a little lower than what was entirely traditional- giving a pretty spectacular view of their cleavage and Raven looked at Kurt with a faint smirk. “Now, now, the food’s for eating, not the waitresses.” 

 

Kurt was pretty sure he turned so purple that it was visible. 

 

The waitresses either didn’t hear that little remark or decided to ignore it as they placed the food on the table. Then they reached behind the back of their dirndls. 

 

“We’re sorry, but good programming like this? Can’t be wasted.” 

 

“Mojo invites you to continue your delightful mother-son reunion on his program.” 

 

“What are you talking abou-” 

 

The guns went off not with a deafening  _ bang,  _ but an almost inaudible  _ thwip,  _ the neurotoxin inside potent enough to paralyze both of them instantly. Kurt remembered falling over facefirst into a pile of sauerkraut as everything faded into darkness. He couldn’t see Raven, but he knew, somehow, she was the same. 

 

**HELLO FAITHFUL VIEWERS**

 

**We’re always looking for new material in Murderworld, and we’ve got a real delight for you! A new dynamic duo that will blow your minds! A mother and son, separated by the caprice of fate, brought together, only to be loosed into the twisted arena of Murderworld!**

 

**Don’t worry folks, Arcade’s been working hard on this and it promises to be the best show EVER.**

 

**And don’t worry, Anonymous Friend, there’ll be Longshot too!**

 

**EVERYONE’S A WINNER (except Raven and Kurt, they’re probably gonna die)**

 

**TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR … NOT WITHOUT MY SON! LIKE NOT WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER BUT ACTUALLY AWESOME!**

 

**REMEMBER TO SUBSCRIBE TO THE NEXT EPISODE FOLKS! A MOTHER’S DAY SPECTACULAR FOR THE AGES! ONLY $19.99!**

  
  
  



	9. Scott V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men gather for the first time in the War Room to rescue Kurt and Raven. 
> 
> Not that they're formally called that yet.

Scott had got the call just after midnight, a telepathic summons from his father to join some of the others in the sub-basements of the Mansion, in a rather austere-looking grey room. He hastily got out of bed alongside Jean, dressed as quickly as he could and made his way downstairs, passing by Piotr and Betsy, who looked even more rumpled than he did, as well as Logan, who looked singularly disgruntled. Ororo, on the other hand, seemed just as dignified as if she’d had hours to prepare for it. Hank looked like he hadn’t even gone to bed, still dressed in his lab clothes. 

 

Scott sat down in the chair next to where his father would sit, with Jean joining him. Even slightly rumpled as she was, he was convinced she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes looked over at him and he could tell that she was plainly worried- his father wouldn’t call them in the middle of the night unless something was direly wrong. 

 

Scott’s eyes went over to the other people in the room for a moment- Piotr looked a touch confused and concerned, but he was pretty sure that Betsy was more annoyed than anything. Hopefully that would fade soon enough once the situation was revealed. Logan looked both spectacularly grouchy and like he was ready for action- he clearly wasn’t happy to be roused, but he wasn’t groggy and tired, either. Ororo was tough to read, she looked pretty serene, but something intangible suggested she wasn’t. And Hank simply looked tired, having clearly been on the cusp of bed and been interrupted by the Professor’s summons. 

 

His father came in, looking simultaneously worried and exhausted, gliding into the room in the new hoverchair that Forge had built for him. Scott did a quick mental tally of the people who were of age in the Institute- that might be called for some crisis that depended on personal intervention. Most of them were here. But there was one very obviously missing person. 

 

“Where’s Wanda?” The words didn’t come out from him, but from Jean. 

 

“Safe.” His father replied. “Safe, thank God. However, one of our students has been taken. Kurt Wagner, along with Raven, his mother.” 

 

“Isn’t that Erik’s mistress?” Scott raised his eyebrow. “She runs a house filled with young mutants. Possibly involved in terrorist activity in the city.” 

 

“If you can call taking out one of those dreadful Purifier ‘churches’ a terrorist action. I’m inclined to buy them all a drink.” Betsy replied acidly.  _ Eager for action. Used to the world revolving around her. She’ll be tough to make into a real team player. But according to the testing, currently a more proficient telepath than Jean is.  _ Scott had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, and he’d need all the assets he could get. 

 

“Enough.” Charles replied, putting up his hand for silence. “I’ve already searched for them- their signatures have been en route for some time, but have finally stopped. They’re in Genosha.” 

 

Scott’s heart sank at that- they all knew about Genosha, the mysterious island nation in the Indian Ocean, which was rumoured to employ mutants for slave labour in the thick jungles in its interior. The problem, however, had less to do with its reputation, but its physical distance. Genosha was nearly as far as far went in the world. They had nothing with that sort of range. 

 

“Isn’t Genosha on the other side of the world?” Piotr asked a little skeptically. “I would be happy to do what I could, but how could we get there?” Piotr was probably one of the more dependable people, psychologically. Steady and capable, he was also definitely a follower rather than a leader. His powers also made him immensely strong and practically indestructible. The Danger Room hadn’t found the means to inflict harm on him. 

 

“Charley wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t have some way.” Logan replied.  _ Always right to the point, Logan. Smarter than he lets on. But chronically insubordinate. Another difficult person to bring on a team. But far and away, the most skilled of any of us at special operations. We got very, very lucky when he attacked us. Had he his full wits and his heart been in it, we probably would’ve been toast.  _ Logan would definitely be going with them if there was, indeed, a way to bring them to Genosha. 

 

“As it happens, Logan, I do indeed.” Charles pressed a button and a holographic image of a plane that looked like one of the old Blackbird spy planes came up. “Equipped with radar and visual stealth capabilities, capable of outspeeding even jet interceptors. And, fortunately, a very good auto-pilot capacity. Now, I don’t expect any of you to assist with this, but I’d appreciate any volunteers. I do not enjoy the thought of anyone having one of our students as a captive.” 

 

“I’ll be there, Dad.” Scott spoke up immediately. He and Kurt hadn’t known each other too long, but they were friends of a sort, and he was very close to someone Scott loved very much. He wasn’t going to refuse to help Kurt and look Wanda in the eyes and tell her that. Scott figured that would take a courage greater than what it’d take to rescue the man. Courage and a complete lack of ethics or morals. 

 

“I would like to accompany Scott.” Hank spoke up second and Scott was almost surprised for a second, surrounded as they were by obvious people of action as they were, before he remembered that Hank had basically taken care of Kurt for much of the time since he’d come. It was something that Scott had regretted, that they hadn’t gone further to make Kurt feel welcome. It was hard with how things had gone down in Germany, but it didn’t excuse anything. Kurt needed them, needed friends, and they’d been slow indeed to warm up to him. 

 

“There is room for eight in the aircraft, with two people being rescued and two people accompanying you, that leaves room for four people from this room.” Charles looked around at the room. “Hank, I know you’d be glad to assist, but I’d prefer to have you here, managing operations.” That meant that right now, Scott was by himself. It made sense- many of them were capable of busting heads in, but few of them were remotely as technologically adept as Hank was. 

 

“I’ll go.” Jean spoke up quickly. Scott knew that she would- Wanda was her best friend and he couldn’t imagine the circumstances in which Jean wouldn’t help someone who had, rather quickly, but no less genuinely, clearly become rather important to Wanda. 

 

“Count me in too, Charley. It sounds like good action if nothin’ else. Besides, Fuzzy seems like a nice kid and I don’t like it when people fuck with nice kids.” Logan grinned a little ferally, clearly excited about getting the chance to throw down as much as he was about assisting Kurt in any way. Scott didn’t necessarily love the older man’s motivations, but, he’d take all the help he could get. 

 

“You have been generous to me and mine. I will do my best to bring Kurt home safely.” Piotr replied, quietly but firmly. Fundamentally, Scott figured the Russian for a gentle soul, but he had truly immense strength. He also struck Scott as a fundamentally brave person, who would face dire threats indeed for the sake of strangers as well as friends. 

 

“I was going to volunteer, but it looks like you’ll have your aircraft full already.” Betsy spoke up, again, with a bit of an acidic edge, clearly a little annoyed to be left out of the action. She tossed some of her admittedly lovely purple hair out of her face. “Do punch some of whichever wankers are holding Mr. Wagner for me, Piotr dearest.” Her attitude grated on Scott a little bit, but he knew she was a valuable asset. She’d be even more of a valuable asset with some discipline. 

 

Ororo remained pointedly quiet through the whole interaction, watching everyone speak carefully, not letting on much of anything through either her words or her body language. Scott knew that, of virtually all the people there, she had the least stake in the Institute, having arrived on the premise of studying and extending her abilities, making it clear that she was unlikely to remain for a long time. He honestly didn’t expect a lot from her- and it would have been unfair to do so. 

 

“I do not do particularly well in aircraft.” Scott had remembered hearing from Hank that she’d had a very difficult time with even a short charter flight and that she’d requested sedation for the longer transatlantic flight. “But if nothing else, perhaps I can ensure that you have fair weather on your journey. A strong tail wind and no snow. I wish you all the best of luck in bringing your friend safely back to the school.” 

 

“Thank you, Ororo.” Charles replied with a smile. “And thank you all. I know it’s an exceptional thing to ask …” 

 

“Look around this room, Charley. Betsy an’ I here, we’re outright action junkies, both of us. Jeannie and Ororo here got the power to wreck whole cities. Petey Pureheart here’s never  _ not  _ gonna be up for helping people. Hank feels responsible for the kid.” Logan smirked slightly. “And Scotty, you’ve been wantin’ your own little Avengers-lite since the day I met you. Jus’ like every lieutenant just out of trainin’ wants to command elite soldiers.” 

 

Scott had to keep himself from grinding his teeth at Logan’s remarks. He felt Jean’s hand brush against his shoulder.  _ Let it go. That’s just the way he is. He’s an awful troll. Not that he probably even knows what that means …  _ Scott couldn’t help but laugh at that little psychic remark. Instead of showing his annoyance, he smiled slightly. “Thanks for the report, Sarge.” More seriously, he looked around. “Put on your training uniforms. We’ll go out there looking like a well-polished team. Maybe make people think twice about messing with our friends.” 

 

“I can certainly subscribe to that sentiment.” Charles replied with a thin, slightly drawn smile. “However, I must emphasize that this will likely be a very dangerous mission indeed. We do not know precisely why Kurt and Raven have been taken, or what the security will be like around them. The Genoshan state, unfortunately, is as well-armed as it is secretive.” Scott suspected that Charles was right. It would be dangerous indeed. At the same time, between him, Jean, Logan and Piotr, not to mention the two others- they were pretty dangerous too. 

 

“You mentioned two others.” Scott spoke up again. “Who are they? People from Raven’s house?” He didn’t know how he precisely felt about that. 

 

“One of them will be Wanda.” Charles replied, and Scott should have known better to think anything else. He would have preferred Wanda remain at the Institute, safely, but he knew that Wanda would never consent to that. She’d clearly become extremely fond of Kurt and Scott knew that it was her love of her friends at the Institute that had, among other things, led to her staying when both her father and brother had left. “The other is, as I understand, Raven’s daughter. She goes by the name of Rogue. You may remember her from a news report not too long where she inadvertently stole the powers of the Avenger Warbird.” 

 

“That may be a problem if we’re seen.” Scott observed. “The Avengers will have been looking for her. It may be dangerous to bring her along.” 

 

“I’m aware of that, but at the same time, Scott, if I were missing- would you consent to sit at home when you were capable of helping me?” Charles replied pointedly. Scott didn’t need to answer, because they both knew that he would move heaven and earth to protect his father. And that Rogue, as she called herself, would feel the same way about her mother. He wasn’t going to argue the point any further, even if it did worry him a little. 

 

Warbird had been a friend and member of the Avengers, after all. Scott didn’t think for a moment they’d forgotten what had happened to her. Perhaps it had all been a terrible accident- he didn’t know this Rogue and was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he doubted they’d see it that way. He was sitting in a room with some very capable and powerful people, but they’d be flattened with ease by the Avengers. All of them together could barely even give Thor a workout. 

 

Scott sincerely hoped it would never come to some sort of confrontation between- a nameless group of mutants and the Avengers. It was easy to pretend that this was some sort of one-off, but he doubted that anyone in the room really believed that. They’d already been training, they’d be wearing uniforms of a sort out there- they even had a jet, that, if all the things he’d heard so far were true, was probably a near-equal for the Avengers Quinjet. 

 

The rest of the meeting contained technical details, which Scott happily enough participated in, but which probably visibly bored some of the others. After that, it was time to get into uniforms and get ready for the mission ahead- launch would happen in an hour, giving Ororo enough time to clear the skies of admittedly pretty awful weather and for Hank and Xavier to make sure that the interface worked. As far as he understood it, they would be doing the main piloting- though Scott could take over in a crisis situation as needed. 

 

Jean had gone off to change seperately- which left Scott, Logan and Piotr putting on their uniforms for the first time outside of the Danger Room. Everyone’s was subtly a little different, but working on a black and gold theme. Piotr’s was cut out around the arms, Logan’s gloves were designed to accommodate his claws without difficulty. Scott closed his eyes and slipped off his glasses and put on the full visor that allowed him far finer control over his powers. He’d once likened it to having a dimmer without real on-off capability- he couldn’t turn his blasts off, but he could moderate their intensity somewhat, and the visor helped significantly with it. The range of power had was considerable- from essentially non-lethal blasts to full-spectrum blasts capable of levelling everything hundreds of feet around him. 

 

Scott figured that he’d need all the capability he could get. None of them really knew what they’d encounter on the other end. 

 

_ Just about ready, lover?  _ Scott heard Jean’s psychic voice call out to him. 

 

_ Just about ready, yeah. Got the uniform and the visor on. You?  _

 

_ Why do the uniforms have to be so tight? I’m fine. A little nervous, but I guess that’s to be expected. What do you think we’ll find in Genosha.  _

 

_ Nothing good. The uniforms help to protect against temperature extremes, they do that better if they’re pretty snug.  _

 

_ You’re just saying that because you like the way it looks on me. It’s godawful and you know it.  _

 

Scott couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at that, which caused the other men to look at him as they finished putting on their own uniforms. He didn’t particularly feel like either apologizing or explaining. “Ready? Good. We’ll go have a formal briefing and then we get on the airplane and fly to Genosha.” Even at over twice the speed of sound, Genosha was far enough away that they’d be some hours in the air. Hopefully Kurt and Raven would be all right. 

 

They took another few seconds to finish dressing. Scott looked at them authoritatively. “Let’s go. Show these bastards no one messes with us.” 

  
  



	10. The Fortunate Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longshot tries his best to help his new, blue friends escape Murderworld!

Longshot squinted down at the peculiar blue people who had arrived, presumably for him to rescue. Sometimes Arcade liked to throw him people to rescue and every once in awhile, he even actually got to save them. He bent down to look at them for a moment- they were kind of fascinating, actually. One of them was blue and fuzzy, with a tail and weird ears and only three fingers. Longshot could identify with having a weird number of fingers- though he had four. The other one was a woman who was really rather pretty, with smoother blue skin and very red hair. 

 

It was her that woke up first, her eye snapping open as she lunged at him instinctively, though his luck powers managed to trigger in time for him to avoid her grasp. She moved fast, though, especially for someone who had just been dosed on the toxins that the Sugar Man made. Longshot figured she had powers that would help her. 

 

“I’m not here to hurt you!” Longshot put his hands up in what he’d learned was a non-threatening gesture. “I’m here to help you two. My name’s Longshot and I’m here to rescue you. Or try. Your blue friend should be waking up pretty soon. The toxin usually fades out pretty soon. People don’t make an interesting hunt when they’re sedated.” 

 

The blue woman sat up. “If you’re lying, I’ll gut you where you stand.” Longshot didn’t think that was very nice. Usually the people he tried to help were helpless and scared and didn’t threaten to turn his insides into outsides. At the same time, though, if she was tougher, that was good for their chances. “Do you have any weapons on you?” She checked her clothes. Longshot handed her a couple of his knives. From the way she handled them, he was guessing she was good at using them. 

 

It was then that the blue man began to stir and sat up. “What … where are we?” 

 

“It’s called Murderworld.” Longshot replied. “It’s … pretty much just like it sounds. It’s a world and it tries to murder you. And now that you’re recovered, the hunt’ll be on. Unless they throw something different at us. Sometimes Arcade throws different things at us. You two look kind of the same. Are you guys related?” 

 

“I’m his long-lost mother.” The blue woman replied acidly. “I’m Raven and he’s Kurt. And we’ve both got friends who are on their way. If you help us, maybe we’ll take you with us.” Longshot figured the second half of that was related to her previous threat to turn his insides into outsides. But the thought of leaving Murderworld- no matter how unbelievable it was, he had to believe it. He had to hold onto hope. That’s what Rita would have wanted, before Rita became Spiral. 

 

“Do you come from America?” Longshot asked innocently. Rita was pinkish like he was, but maybe America was secretly full of blue people. He didn’t know a lot about America, except that it was big and people drank Coca-Cola and played baseball and chose their own leaders. And that Rita came from America. 

 

“We live there now.” Kurt, the blue man, replied as he got a little shakily to his feet. “If you help us, we can take you there.” Kurt offered Longshot his hand. “You have my word.” Longshot decided then that Kurt was nicer than Raven. Maybe it made sense for Raven to be the way she was- surely she couldn’t know that Longshot was a nice man who would do anything he could to help. But he liked Kurt better. They also had weird hands. Longshot shook it firmly. 

 

**_Ah, very nice. I’m glad to see you’re all getting to know each other._ **

 

Longshot looked up at the sky. Arcade didn’t address people in Murderworld all that often, it broke the illusion. There was a barely suppressed glee in his voice, though. There were more evil, dangerous people around Murderworld- Mojo, who dreamed of going back into space and tormenting space people, chief among them, perhaps even the wicked Sugar Man who made him go to sleep and forget most things. But there was something particularly awful and- sadistic about Arcade.

 

Some people liked Coca-Cola and kissing and dreaming about going to America. Arcade liked inflicting pain and Longshot was pretty sure all his dreams were about hurting other people. Longshot knew he’d hurt Rita and he wanted to make sure Arcade didn’t hurt anyone ever again. 

 

“I’m guessing you’re the motherfucker that took us here?” Raven called upwards, yellow eyes flashing with real hatred. Longshot wasn’t used to people that swore so freely, like they did in R-rated movies. “I hope you’ve written your will, because you’re a dead man.” Longshot didn’t know how she could sound so certain of that. 

 

**_Oh, I like you already. Such spirit. Though shamefully vulgar. Well, we’ll break you down soon enough. But first, the semblance of hope._ **

 

**_You have twenty-four hours to survive. Survive for twenty-four hours and you and your blond friend can leave._ **

 

A parcel lazily wound its way down from an undefined point in the sky and settled down onto the ground. Longshot went over to it and opened it quickly with one of his knives, handing over packages for Raven and Kurt. Nothing for him. They rarely gave him special equipment. Sometimes they liked to mock the people he rescued with weapons they couldn’t use. Longshot looked over at his new companions, though, both obviously fit and with a slightly dangerous gleam in the woman’s eyes. These weren’t the usual victims. 

 

Kurt opened up his package to reveal a gleaming blade, that shimmered in the sunlight, along with a scabbard, along with a matching dagger. “A lovely sword. I think I will keep it when we escape this place.” He swished it around elegantly a few times. “I used to fence regularly with my friends in the circus. I was very good at it.” Longshot could have suggested a few improvements to his stance, but that seemed rude. 

 

Raven opened up her package to reveal a pair of pistols and a pair of gleaming knives, just like Longshot’s. The pistols came with the eight rounds in them, plus an additional magazine for each one and a belt to wear them around. Her package also included a pair of hand grenades. Raven grinned in a way that made Longshot slightly nervous. It seemed a bit improper to get so excited about weapons. 

 

“It’s not my sniper rifle or even an AK, but it’s a lot better than nothing. I’ll be sure to save a bullet for the voice in the sky.” Kurt looked at Longshot for a moment- Longshot decided that Raven’s glee about weapons made Kurt a little nervous too. Longshot further decided if they escaped, that he’d buy Kurt a Coca-Cola. He’d probably buy Raven one too, because she scared him a bit. To be sure, she didn’t seem sadistic and evil like Arcade, the Sugar Man or Mojo, but she didn’t really seem nice either. 

 

It was then that he heard the unnatural, mechanical baying of the dogs. 

 

“Time to run.” Longshot called out as he started doing just that, a little relieved when Raven and Kurt joined him. It was kind of interesting to watch Kurt run, because instead of running on two legs like him and Raven, he dropped to all fours and loped around like, well, he looked a bit like a monkey when he did it. It was also obvious that he could easily outpace both Raven and Longshot. 

 

“So what is that is chasing us? That doesn’t sound like dogs.” Raven quickly donned her belt while running. “At least any kind of dog that I’m familiar with.” 

 

“I just call them dogs.” Longshot replied. “They’re created to hunt. They’re the most usual thing that Arcade likes to use.” Arcade had a lot of very clever mechanisms in Murderworld that Longshot had encountered, but he seemed to like to come back to the dogs. Longshot didn’t like to think about why that was. Thinking about evil too much made him think bad thoughts too, and if he thought bad thoughts, his luck would go away. 

 

The dogs were closer than usual this time and four of them came, snarling and gnashing unnaturally sharp teeth at Longshot. Longshot pulled out his knives, realizing that this time, they might have to fight.  _ I’ve got to help these people. Help them escape and find their friends.  _ Neither Raven or Kurt seemed to hesitate, whirling around quickly, Kurt going towards his mother, grabbing one of the hand grenades and disappearing in a puff of stinking smoke, reappearing near them, laying the grenade- missing the pin, at their feet. 

 

Raven grabbed him in that instant and pulled him behind a large boulder, as Kurt reappeared with them. The next instant there was a deafeningly loud explosion. Raven was the first around the corner, guns ready, with Longshot readying throwing knives. But Longshot could see that they wouldn’t need to do so. The dogs were all dead, killed by the grenade blast. Longshot supposed it was an effective tactic, but something about it seemed unfair. 

  
_ The dogs aren’t evil,  _ Longshot reminded himself,  _ they’re just hungry. And now they’re dead.  _ He couldn’t judge either Kurt or Raven very much for what had just happened- after all, they’d eliminated the immediate threat pretty effectively, but Longshot wished there was a way to do so without killing the dogs. He supposed if he was more willing to simply kill them, that his life would be easier. But then he’d run the risk of becoming a bad person and then his luck would be gone. 

 

They had more immediate problems, though. He heard buzzing. That meant the wasps.  _ Please not the wasps.  _ The dogs were nasty enough, but the wasps were something else altogether, grey with an almost metallic skin, individually a meter or so long, with stingers the size of small knives that injected a neurotoxin that turned every sensory stimulation into indescribable pain. They came hurtling through the jungle and the running began again. 

 

The wasps buzzed angrily behind them, getting closer, closer, fanning out so they surrounded them on three sides. Raven turned around and fired a few shots with her gun, one of them hitting a wasp and sending it crashing to the ground, twitching and dying. Longshot felt bad to admit it, but he didn’t feel bad for the wasps the way he sometimes he did for the dogs. The wasps were animals too, but they were altogether more disturbing ones.

 

Longshot didn’t like bugs at all, and these wasps the least of all. He didn’t tell them that, though, because they looked angry enough as it was. Longshot wasn’t going to provoke them any further than he needed to. When one got particularly close, he threw a knife at it, his eye flashing as it struck the wasp right in the eye, sending it hurtling towards the ground.  _ That’s another one of them down, but too many of them still coming at us.  _

Longshot did quick mental calculation as Raven whirled around and fired another two rounds, bringing down another one of the wasps.  _ We’ve got enough ammunition to bring down these wasps, but is that it? I doubt it. He gave us twenty-four hours. There might be a short rest in there, but not much of one.  _ He looked over at Raven. 

 

“Save your bullets! There’s probably worse coming.” The wasps were pretty terrible, though. Longshot really, really didn’t like the wasps. 

 

“Fine.” Raven replied harshly, putting away her guns and running as quickly as she could, which admittedly was pretty fast- she could more or less keep up with Longshot without him dragging her along like he sometimes dragged Rita along. Kurt on the other hand, seemed to have to actually go slower to keep with the others, he was plainly naturally faster than either Longshot or Raven. Longshot wondered for a brief moment why he didn’t just run faster then. 

 

Longshot was pretty sure, though, that the answer was that Kurt wanted to stay close to them, for mutual protection, sure, but also because he wanted to help them, because he seemed like the sort of guy who helped others when they needed it. Longshot was quite certain that Kurt would help out a stranger who needed it, even if it was dangerous. Somehow, he thought Raven wouldn’t. 

 

Was there a word for people who weren’t really either good or bad? Longshot didn’t know what it was, if there was one. He supposed it was a little unfair to think that, he’d only seen Raven in a pretty bad situation, fighting things that were trying to attack her. But there were small hints- her complete glee when the weapons arrived, the bloodthirsty threat to Arcade. 

 

Longshot supposed that Kurt’s father had to be a nice man. 

 

They continued to run until Kurt spotted a cave, which they promptly ducked into as the wasps hurtled on. That was one small thing that Longshot was grateful about- the fact that the wasps didn’t seem to have the sense of smell that the dogs had. They were better visual trackers in many ways, but they couldn’t smell like the dogs did. It’d be awful if they could somehow work together or combine the two. Smelling wasps that bayed like the dogs that bit as they stung. 

 

“... what is the purpose of this place?” Kurt looked at Longshot. 

 

“It’s a TV show. People watch it for fun. I don’t know if they know that people get hurt for real or not. I think some do and some don’t.” Longshot replied. 

 

“I’ve … I’ve heard rumours about shows involving mutants. Distributed on online networks.” Raven replied. “That there’s a couple of versions that get made. A somewhat sanitized version that’s shown openly. And other versions, that are passed around the underground. I kind of figured they were a myth. Like snuff films.” 

 

“This place looks real enough.” Kurt replied. “We just have to stay alive until our friends arrive. Whether it is the Institute’s people or the people at your house.” 

 

“Or Erik.” Raven answered. 

 

“Who’s Erik?” Longshot asked innocently. “Is he Kurt’s dad?” 

 

Raven laughed in a way that Longshot had learned people sometimes laughed when they were actually super uncomfortable. “No. He’s not Kurt’s dad.” Kurt for his part rolled his eyes as if he’d heard that thing about Erik being his dad before. Longshot didn’t really feel he needed to apologize, though. It was an honest and understandable mistake. But he’d remember not to openly speculate on the identity of Kurt’s dad. It seemed like a sensitive topic, particularly for Raven. 

 

“He’s a very powerful mutant. Maybe the most powerful in the world. If he comes, he’ll tear this place to shreds.” Raven looked at Longshot and Kurt. “Then again, maybe we should beat him to the punch. You said this is a TV show?” 

 

“Yeah, it’s a TV show.” Longshot replied. 

 

“Let’s give `em a show they’ll never forget.” Raven grinned fiercely. “And then we’re going to cancel their asses, forever.” 


	11. Logan V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men approach Genosha in their shiny new aircraft. 
> 
> Of course, they head right into a firefight. 
> 
> 4 chapters in one day ... :o

“Approaching Genoshan economic zone.” Scott looked at the controls for a moment and then towards Wolverine. “Think we’ll be meeting with any resistance on the way in?” 

 

“Not as likely as on the way out. If the stealth on this plane works as well as they say it does- they ain’t gonna look too hard if they don’t know ta look for somethin’. But we’re going in and doing a smash and grab. They’ll be lookin’ a lot harder on the way out.” Logan was a little surprised that Scott had just asked his opinion, but he wasn’t going to bite the kid’s head off about it either. He was a pretty brave kid, but he was, in the end, just a kid. They all were. 

 

The girl named Rogue was the youngest of the lot, sixteen at best, looking like she was going to bust out of the bottom of the airplane and go flying towards her mother all by herself. From what he’d been told on the way out, she might actually have a chance at it, but it was a lot better to go in together. Some stealth was called for, but part of it was making an impression. Logan had little doubt that the girl would make an impression, if the fierce look in her eye was any indication. 

 

Wanda, Kurt’s girlfriend, was a little older than Rogue- maybe eighteen. Logan had quickly looked at the file on her powers and concluded that Charles didn’t actually know how to classify her abilities. There was a lot of talk about real-time manipulation of probability fields and chaos theory, but what it came down to, basically, was that her mutant power was some kind of magic. She’d been  quieter than Rogue, focused, as much on keeping herself together as on the mission at hand. He wouldn’t have chosen her for this mission, by a long shot. 

 

Jean looked significantly better composed, but no less fierce. It amused him to consider the fact that all three young women had green eyes. Jean Grey had remained completely quiet through the trip, though Logan knew that she had some sort of ability to communicate with Scott via a telepathic link. He’d got the impression they’d been doing so more or less non-stop through the trip. Her powers were probably the most impressive of the lot- telepathy and telekinesis. She’d be useful on a number of fronts when they hit action. 

 

Logan actually talked a little to Piotr during the trip and beforehand, in training scenarios. The Russian was a little bit on the shy side, but at the same time, he seemed incredibly steady. There was no visible sign of agitation or fear in him.  _ Petey would’ve made a good soldier in any army.  _ It was pretty easy for Logan to imagine him holding the line against SS Panzer Divisions at the battle of Stalingrad. He was pretty green, but so were they all. 

 

They continued streaking across the sky- it was difficult to really sense inside the well-heated and pressurized cabin, but they were moving at over twice the speed of sound and flying at nearly 80,000 feet, twice the height of a normal commercial jet. At this altitude, Logan could clearly make out the curvature of the Earth below them. He looked over at Piotr again who was eying it with great interest. 

 

“Hell of a sight, isn’t it?” Logan said conversationally, wishing he had a cigar. 

 

“It is beautiful. And as close, I imagine, as I’ll ever get to seeing Earth from space.” Piotr paused. “My father was a cosmonaut. He died in an accident. He spoke of how beautiful our planet looked from space. I’ve always wanted to go there, but …” He laughed. “It is difficult to paint in zero gravity. Even pencils can be dangerous there.” 

 

“Didn’t know ya were an artist, Petey.” Logan took another look at the Earth. “And you never know. Our lives seem to be getting weirder an’ weirder all the time. Next thing you know, we’ll be up in space fighting aliens. Never say never. Shit has a way of happening.” 

 

“I will keep that in mind.” Piotr noted with a small bit of amusement. 

 

“It’s real nice that y’all can just sit there and talk about how pretty the danged Earth looks.” Rogue finally interrupted, green eyes flashing impatience. “Must be nice to be able to have a nice conversation while God knows what is happening down there to my Momma and your friend.” 

 

“Well, as ya may know, we can’t just teleport right over to Genosha. We’re goin’ as fast as any aircraft  _ ever built  _ to their rescue. We’ll find `em. But soldiers like to gab before they go into action. Save it for the enemy.” Logan really wished he had a cigar. He couldn’t really blame Rogue for feeling the way she did, but he wasn’t going to shut up on account of it, and neither should Piotr. 

 

“I find that when I am frightened, it is good to remember that there are good and beautiful things in the world as well.” Piotr spoke up, in a voice hardly above a whisper that nonetheless seemed to demand attention. “Whether you are frightened for yourself or for other people. We are high enough right now that you can appreciate our Earth as a planet. I don’t know of many things I’ve seen that beat that.” 

 

“Better be a few things, Petey. Unless you’ve been playin’ checkers with Betsy every night she’s been sneakin’ into your room.” Logan smirked, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rogue looking out the window over at the world. 

 

“I said things.” Piotr replied with a tiny smile. “I did not include people.” There was a tiny flush on the big Russian’s cheeks, though. It was all well and good that the kid was having fun, but somehow, he doubted it’d last for a long time between the two. Betsy was out for fun and novelty. Logan figured that Piotr needed someone a lot more committed than Betsy was likely to be. He wasn’t going to say anything about that, though, unless Petey asked directly. Just because something didn’t last for a really long time, didn’t mean it wasn’t good. 

 

“Nice answer there, Piotr.” Jean replied with a faint grin and then she turned her attention to Logan. “But let’s save the locker room crap for an actual locker room. The last thing I need is for a bunch of guys to be bragging about their conquests while I’m trying to focus on a mission ahead.” Her tone was light, though, clearly teasing him. 

 

“Well, I guess that means I’m doubly not allowed to brag.” Scott replied, in what seemed to Logan to be a relatively rare foray into levity for the normally extremely self-serious young man. Scott seemed essentially similar to countless of the young officers he’d served under- intelligent, brave, but desperately green and even more desperate to prove themselves. Those were the good ones, the ones that had some potential if they survived their first few brushes with combat. 

 

“Triply.” Jean retorted with a faint grin, and a moment later, Scott actually chuckled, which suggested to Logan that she’d said something funny mentally. Unlike Betsy and Piotr, he could see the two of them maybe working long term. Certainly, when Jean was around, Summers was a little looser and sometimes even smiled or laughed. He just hoped that Summers realized how damn lucky he was- if he were anywhere even remotely near that age, he’d probably be trying his best to steal Jean away. But she was seventeen and he was positively ancient. It wasn’t something he’d even considered. 

 

_ They need more damn adult women around this Institute. Then again, I always preferred my relationships short and to the point. Always got into trouble when people started thinkin’ long term could happen.  _ There was no point getting depressed or angry about it though. Things were what they were. Soon enough, they’d be in action of some kind. He could feel it in his bones. 

 

“How’re you doing, Wanda?” Scott asked her, turning to face the young woman with the dark hair and exaggerated red and black wardrobe. 

 

“Wonderful.” Wanda replied caustically. “I’m doing wonderfully. Thank you for asking.” Logan noticed that Jean gave Wanda a little look. There was something between those two girls too- Wanda definitely had a thing for Jean Grey, and Logan suspected that it wasn’t entirely one-sided. But not two-sided enough that they were the big couple and Scott and Jean weren’t. He had the impression there was a long and complex history there he didn’t particularly care to know. 

 

He felt a little bad for Jean, though. She looked like she was getting a headache. As for Scott, he could handle a little sarcasm. It’d be good for him. They were going to be in for a lot worse. 

 

“... you’re right. It is a pretty lovely sight.” Rogue turned towards Piotr. “It’s kinda weird thinking that we actually live on a giant ball spinning around in space. It’s beautiful from up here, though. I can’t even fly this high.” She actually smiled for a half moment before the mingled worry and anger returned to her features. 

 

A quiet then settled on the airplane as they continued going closer and closer to the location, as the aircraft began decelerating as they approached it. Jean Grey slipped on a small helmet intended to enhance her telepathy, which allowed for direct communication with the Professor, without worrying about their signal being intercepted or interfered with. 

 

They approached what looked like a singularly huge domed area- Wolverine would guess it at around a square kilometer, certainly larger than any dome he’d ever seen before. 

 

“That’s it, there. The dome. That’s where they are.” Jean spoke, for the benefit of everyone, though, Logan knew that she was simulcasting it to Scott via telepathy. 

 

“... so we gonna land outside the dome?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised. There’d probably be heavy perimeter security outside of it. Not that he wouldn’t mind a good throwdown, but they weren’t really outfitted for stealth. Piotr alone would disqualify them from that based on his sheer size. Also the Russian got really, really shiny when he used his powers. 

 

“No.” Scott replied. “We’re going to crack it.” 

 

“You’ll excuse me askin’, but with what? Professor said this tin can doesn’t have any weapons.” Logan looked over at Scott. 

 

“Look closely at the windows.” Logan decided to humour Scott and did so, realizing that once he really paid attention to it, that the windows were all subtly reddish in tone. Logan grinned faintly at that sight. He knew  _ exactly  _ what that meant. It meant that the Blackbird wasn’t entirely without weapons. 

 

“I’m going to crack the dome if I can and then Rogue’s going to deploy from the Blackbird and go in. Piotr drops soon after. The rest of us will land and exit that way. Any hostiles in the immediate area will be neutralized by one or both of them. At that point, our miniaturized mutant detectors will do the rest. Our first priority is to find and save Kurt and Raven, but I’m not averse to causing property damage on the way in.” 

 

The Blackbird swooped over the dome and then turned on a dime and started an attack run heading right for it. Logan was impressed at how gracefully it could handle complex maneuvers, at how little g-force he felt.  _ Whoever built this plane did a real damn good job.  _ Scott sat up straight, lined up perfectly with one of the reddish windows of the Blackbird. His visor opened and the cabin was filled with a loud noise like a thundercrack as the glowing reddish energy of his optic blasts lanced out of the front window and into the dome, blasting a hole clean through it.

 

Quickly, the Blackbird swerved again, but this time, Rogue got out of her seat and went over to where the ramp was, but this time, it simply opened up, a one-way forcefield preventing the depressurization of the cabin as Rogue streaked out into the sky, flying effortlessly through the hole left in the dome. The Blackbird again, turned on an absolute dime and went around for another attack run, this time, Scott managed to fire twice, blasting the hole larger and larger, until, on the third run, they were able to simply fly inside it. 

 

Once inside the space, the Blackbird switched to VTOL mode, which allowed it to take off or land without the need for a runway at all. Again, all this was pretty damned impressive to Logan. He had vague memories of freezing his ass off on a modified bomber aircraft in World War II, dealing with a very, very airsick Captain America.  _ I filled a couple of brown-bags myself, though. Techhnology’s come a long way since then.  _

 

Soon, it was Piotr’s turn to drop, simply jumping out and landing on the ground with a colossal thud. Rogue’s next job would be to swoop in and pull him out of a crater if need be- depending on what the ground looked like. The two of them could distract any hostiles while the Blackbird landed. Logan caught a glimpse of fighting erupting between men in powered armour and some manner of energy weapon, Rogue and Piotr, who seemed to have landed on his feet and had just flipped over an armoured personnel carrier like it was some sort of Tinkertoy. 

 

The Blackbird remained invisible as it landed and the others quickly rolled out of it, Logan immediately seeking the thick of the fight, Scott, Jean and Wanda staying a little further back. A bolt of crimson energy sailed through the air at what looked like a hovertank of some kind and it promptly dropped to the ground, sparking visibly. Armed men dashed out of it panicked as fires started breaking out over it.  _ So the Red Witch’s powers have some value after all.  _

 

Logan growled and headed into the thick of the melee, dodging several blasts from their energy weapons and laying into them. He popped his claws and slashed away one of the trooper’s armour, then picked him up and threw him into another group of armoured troopers. Suddenly, though, he felt himself hurled back as a immense burning agony struck him in the shoulder. He looked around to see that his shoulder was charred, smoking meat.

 

_ That just made me mad, though. People shouldn’t be tryin’ to do that.  _

 

Several energy bolts hit Piotr and Rogue, but they seemed to have no impact on them outside of their clothes. An energy field created by Jean protected the more vulnerable people on the team. Logan pressed on, his claws slashing into the armour and the flesh below of another guard. 

 

_ Logan. Try not to kill them. They’re just soldiers doing their job.  _

 

_ That’s what soldiers do, Jeannie. Kill or be killed. But fine. You wanna play superhero? But I’m not makin’ any promises.  _

 

Logan had no doubt whatsoever that Jean was relating orders from Scott, though she’d changed them into a request, perhaps because she thought it would go down more easily. If so, she wasn’t necessarily wrong. He just thought it was a bit foolish. This was combat, and people died in combat. And you didn’t want to be one of the people dying, then you’d best be prepared to do some killing. Logan had no illusions about himself, he was a killer. 

 

Logan also knew that the line between lethal and non-lethal force was a lot more porous and uncertain than these kids probably thought. Piotr wasn’t trying to kill anyone- in fact, quite the contrary, but with the amount of power he could put behind even a pulled punch, he could shatter bones and turn bodies into paste. Even clipping someone’s head could perhaps knock it clean off or, perhaps, create a concussion that would kill hours or even days later. 

 

But if they wanted him to try, then he supposed he’d do just that. 

 

Like he said to Jean, though, he didn’t make any promises. 

 

This was combat and you didn’t make any promises in foxholes. 


	12. Rogue V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue and the X-Men continue in Murderworld! 
> 
> It doesn't go particularly well for our favorite southern gal.

It felt good to cut loose. 

 

It felt good to plow through armed and armoured soldiers, trained men who probably could’ve taken her apart under normal circumstances. Rogue was going through these soldiers like they were bowling pins and she was making a strike every time. She didn’t even have to punch them sometimes, just fly right through them. Their energy weapons didn’t seem to hurt her much, though they were being awfully rough on her outfit. She’d be half-naked at best once this was all done- which would present problems for later, but right now? 

 

Right now, things were all right. 

 

The Genoshan security forces pretty quickly realized that they were outmatched and outgunned and started calling a retreat. Rogue touched down onto the ground as they started to first retreat, and then, break into a run. She fought off the urge to chase them. She had more important work to do. They had to find her Momma. Hopefully the Institute people would be able to find theirs too- for her Momma’s sake too. Rogue had heard from Mom about the child that Raven had to give up. 

 

Scott- that was his name, the guy that seemed to be in charge, even though he was maybe two or three years older than Rogue was- except for the grizzled-looking short guy, they were all basically kids, came up quickly, along with the other people that had to worry about gunfire. Speaking of the short guy, he’d been hit by a few of them, though the nasty-looking burns were already well on their way to being healed. Still, that looked like it  _ hurt.  _

 

“I expected that this would be some sort of research facility. It looks like some weird arena instead.” Scott looked around carefully. Then he stopped for a moment. “I can’t see the hole in the dome anymore.” 

 

As they gathered, everything around them began to shift and suddenly instead of being in what looked like an isolated patch of the Genoshan jungle, they were in a bizarre post-apocalyptic city-state. Everything became deathly quiet, except for a low moan, something unnatural that sent a chill going down Rogue’s spine. 

 

**_Welcome, unexpected guests! Welcome to Murderworld. This is your emcee, Arcade speaking._ **

 

An unnaturally cold wind began to blow through the space- suddenly the temperature had gone from the steamy heat of the tropics to something positively subarctic, the breaths of all the gathered people visible. The low moaning became louder and louder, until it was a cacophonous chorus and suddenly, they were surrounded by what seemed like a teeming horde of the undead, bodies unnaturally animated, all decaying and maimed. Rogue set her jaw hard. 

 

“Thought the Institute was the only place with this kinda technology.” Logan growled as his claws popped. 

 

Scott turned to Rogue. “Get airborne. We can handle things on the ground. You’re our best chance to see where Kurt and Raven are.” Rogue didn’t need any second prompting and took off into the skies, as high as she could, until she hit up against a solid mass of the dome. It didn’t look like it- it looked like she should be able to fly up farther and farther, but it wasn’t happening. She could probably punch a hole through it, but she couldn’t risk chunks of it coming down on her companions. 

 

From her vantage point, she saw the sheer size of the staggering mass of the undead coming onto them. Hundreds at least. She had to assume that they would be okay, set her jaw and continued soaring over the blasted city-scape, up against the roof of the dome. It wouldn’t take long for her to go to the other side- there, however, the image seemed to change for her again, the city still crumbling and broken, but this time she heard air-raid sirens.

 

Rogue heard the now familiar droning sound of missiles streaking towards her, from a battery of anti-aircraft missiles located on top of one of the buildings. She dove down low, as hard and fast as she could, pulling up at the very last second as the missiles hit the ground. Rogue managed to get clear of the explosive radius, but only just- not that she thought anything other than a direct hit would hurt her much, but she didn’t feel like fighting naked yet again. She’d have to look into tougher clothes. 

 

_ Momma, where are you?  _ Rogue took off towards the anti-air battery as quickly as she could, just as it began to fire, maneuvering as quickly as she could, just enough to throw them off, streaking away from the battery with the missiles following and then screaming towards it as quickly as she could. She’d been shot at enough by missiles in the last while that she was, strangely, starting to get fairly good at it, pulling up again at the very last moment as the battery erupted into a spectacular explosion, destroyed by its own missiles. 

 

Rogue continued flying as far as she could, until she smacked hard into the barrier on the other end. Something seemed strange, though. Disregarding anything else, she flew as hard and fast as she could towards the other end, towards the barrier- not really caring if she broke through it. Rogue pushed herself to fly as fast as she could, nearly as fast as the Blackbird- she didn’t know for sure, but she figured it was somewhere on par with the plane’s cruise speed at least. 

 

It was taking her far, far too long to get to the other end. Rogue should have reached it in mere seconds- she could fly fast enough to outmaneuver missiles with a little lead time, but a few minutes out and she was still soaring over seemingly urban terrain with no end in sight.  _ The hell is this danged place?  _ That disembodied voice, which sounded like some sort of twisted narrator, had introduced it as Murderworld.  _ Ain’t done a good job of that so far.  _

 

Rogue took nearly ten minutes to reach the other end- math wasn’t her strong suit, but she knew that she could go at something like 1,500 mph, which …  _ c’mon, let’s see how my best eighth grade math can handle that. There’s six times ten minutes in an hour, so that’s something like 250 miles. We saw this place from the outside, it wasn’t even probably one mile.  _ Rogue actually stopped for a moment.  _ It’s a tesseract. Bigger on the inside than the outside.  _

 

The very next moment, however, she felt the breath practically knocked out of her as something slammed into her at incredible speed and sent her hurtling towards the ground. Rogue tried to pry the individual who had grabbed her off, but it was hard- whoever it was was as strong as she was. Her eyes focused only to open wide in fear and terror as she saw Carol Danvers staring back at her, blue eyes glaring murderously at her. 

 

“You hurt me.” The impact took the breath out of Rogue’s lungs. Fingers pressed around her throat, cutting off first speech and then airflow entirely. “You drained the life out of me.” Carol Danvers grabbed Rogue’s head and dashed it brutally hard against the ground- had it been hard concrete, Rogue had little doubt her head could’ve been cracked open. Rogue’s fingers wrapped around the hands around her throat and tried to pry her off, feet madly kicking at her. 

 

“I’m going to enjoy watching you die.” The blue eyes flashed with a murderous glee that Rogue knew, knew that the real Carol Danvers would never feel, even towards her. Her struggling redoubled. The world started to get darker around her, insane pressure building in her chest as the oxygen in her blood started to drop. Rogue knew that it was now or never. 

 

With a final, mad surge of strength, Rogue ripped the hands around her throat away and kicked as hard as she could, sending the false Warbird flying into the air. She took a ragged gulp of air and, seeing the fake Warbird flying back towards her, she took to the air herself, as quickly as she could. She continued to streak away, not daring to turn back, knowing that whatever that really was, couldn’t be far behind her. 

 

_ Momma, where are you?  _ Rogue soared around the perimeter of the dome, not seeing a glimpse of her or anyone else. Indeed, she couldn’t even see the city-scape anymore, with the zombies. Nervously, she turned back to see that the false Warbird had disappeared. She had no idea what else was going to start popping up from the twisted imagination of whoever ran this place. 

 

**_It must be nice to fly, fly away whenever things get difficult. You’ve proven to be rather good at that. But what if you can’t fly, little girl?_ **

 

Just as soon as the sadistic voice burst out from the sky, Rogue felt herself grow heavier and heavier and before she knew it, she was falling out of the sky without any ability to do anything about it, as if pulled down by an invisible force. She hit the ground at an incredible speed and she felt the breath explode out of her lungs as the ground itself seemed to crack before her as she continued falling, farther and farther down. 

 

**_How far can you fall?_ **

 

**_How far down?_ **

 

When Rogue finally stopped falling, the second impact was hard enough to cause her to black out momentarily before she opened her eyes again, getting up slowly. She tried to soar up again, but she couldn’t- whatever power caused her to fly wasn’t working anymore. She picked up a rock and tried to crush it between her fingers. The result confirmed that, at least, her other powers seemed to be operational. 

 

The next thing that Rogue realized is that it was really, really hot. Her powers protected her from the heat, but she had a feeling that any ordinary person would have significant trouble with the heat. She started walking down what looked like a narrow, winding path that seemed to circle a truly immense abyss. She looked over the edge and couldn’t see the end. 

 

What Rogue heard, faintly, was a low moan, but it didn’t sound like the low moan that the zombies made- it sounded far more human, like people in pain.  _ So, basically, I’m in Hell right now. Or it’s supposed to be like hell.  _ Her nose wrinkled at the smell of brimstone. Rogue cracked her knuckles and looked at the way up, which seemed open to her, if she could only fly. Above her, otherwise seemed to be nothing but a scorched and blasted plain. A fireball streaked high over the sky, smashing down and exploding with tremendous force over the infernal wasteland. 

 

_ Not a bad impression of Hell. Clearly, they want me to go down. Well, fine. I can lick any demon they throw at me.  _

 

Rogue started to walk down, loathing the fact that she was stuck to moving at a normal speed, that she couldn’t just soar at twice the speed of sound. It seemed pretty desolate in the beginning, walking down, the ever-present background sound of damned souls slowly grating on her nerves. Rogue reminded itself that it was fake, but it was weirdly convincing. The sulfurous fumes became more and more choking as she advanced downwards. 

 

As Rogue advanced, the heat became more and more oppressive and she started thinking more and more about the bad things she’d done, every unkind word she’d ever used. She suddenly felt a strange pang of guilt about poor Mortimer, whom she was now suddenly sure had more than just friendly feelings for her.  _ You led him on, because you like the feeling of being adored. And you’ve got an excuse for not wanting to touch him. You like being around him because you can keep him on a leash.  _

 

“That’s not true.” Rogue whispered to herself, but she sounded oddly unconvincing.  _ You kissed that boy and sent him in a coma, didn’t you? Your touch brings misery and death.  _ Rogue shook her head. She didn’t mean to hurt Cody, she really didn’t. Tears started falling down her face. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know.” She let out a quiet sob, sinking to her knees. “I didn’t know.” 

 

_ But you knew when you put your hands on your own mother, your hands that bring nothing but suffering and misery. What kind of person would do that to their own mother?  _

 

“I was trying to help her, she was suffering from her visions so I … I thought I could take them away for a little while.” Rogue sobbed quietly. “I thought I could help.” 

 

_ How does it help someone to feed on them like a vampire? And what of Carol Danvers? What of the innocent woman you attacked and might as well have murdered? What of her that was lost forever inside yourself?  _

 

_ You drank her empty and tossed her aside like an old wineskin. You threw her away like an empty husk.  _

 

_ You love her powers. You love her strength, her ability to fly, her ability to endure. You wanted them and you took them.  _

 

“I- I needed them.” Rogue’s voice at the point sounded impossibly tiny, to the point where she was having trouble hearing herself. 

 

“You hurt me.” And now it really was Carol Danvers rising from the infernal pit, gaunt and emaciated, but eyes ablaze with righteous fury. This time, she grasped Rogue with a grip far too powerful to resist and brought her, kicking and screaming over the edge of the abyss. “But now it’s your time. It is your time to fall into the darkness. To burn and suffer. To remember for all time, all the evil things you’ve done.” 

 

And with that, Rogue was tossed screaming over the edge, into the endless burning abyss, unable to avoid it, unable to take flight and now she could feel the heat rising, beyond what was merely uncomfortable. Her scream took on a more desperate quality as she realized that she wasn’t only hot, she was  _ burning.  _ Rogue continued to hurtle down the endless void, her body giving out on her, devoid of the powers she’d stolen. 

 

Stripped of the powers she’d stolen from Carol Danvers, stolen without any right, Rogue could feel the flames searing her flesh, could smell her skin blacken and curl away from raw flesh, which blistered as the blood began to boil, she felt the heat sink down into her bones, until there was no flesh, no bone left, nothing but pain and endless suffering as she was burned away, body and soul. She was blackened now but somehow, she was still able to scream, hers only one among an infinite of the damned. 

 

_ Please. Help me. Someone. Anyone. Please.  _

 

_ I’m dying. _

 

**_WOW. Rogue sure looks like she’s in a pickle, isn’t she?_ **

 

**_This has surely been the most exciting episode of Murderworld yet! In the not-actual words of the world’s favorite utterly discredited director- WHATTA TWEEST!_ **

 

**_But you’re probably wondering, what’s actually up with the other X-Men? How’s their zombie apocalypse going? And what happened over in the Hunger Ga- I mean, whatever Kurt and Raven and Longshot are doing?_ **

 

**_You’ll just have to buy the next episode to be sure! I can guarantee you, they’ll be more derivativ- I mean, faithful and respectful homages to media properties you love!_ **

 

**_Only $19.99! WHATTA DEAL!_ **

 


	13. Kurt V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt, Raven and Longshot are trapped in a parody of a well-known fantasy franchise! 
> 
> Also, Azazel? WTF? What's he doing here?
> 
> Read on to find out!

Kurt’s hand never once left his sword as he and his two companions advanced through the vast frozen wasteland before them. He narrowed his eyes, glad that the winds had abated for a moment, knowing that the dead would come when the cold wind blew.  _ I liked winter better when it was coming. And I didn’t like it much then either. But the cold winds blow and the dead walk among us. And we haven’t a prayer of finishing this without the dragons.  _

 

He turned towards his companions- neither people who had been born of the cold, frozen lands, both of whom would have much preferred to make their stand in sunnier climes. Kurt had no love for the cold, but he knew how to deal with it, he knew its rough caress well. All the same, though, he longed for the red woman, the witch who had brought him back to life with her kiss. Kurt would give up all the nightfires in the world to be in her arms again. 

 

“So … whatever made Arcade think that this was a clever idea, makes me like him even less than before.” Lord Longshot, one of Kurt’s companions spoke up, dressed in the resplendent red and gold of his house. Unfortunately, the man had seemed to fall to a queer madness in which he spoke of the whole of their lives thus far as being a cruel jape, a miserable joke played at the hands of a sadistic god. He named that god Arcade.  _ But there’s wisdom in a madman’s words, and he’s one of the Three. Three dragons, three riders. There must be Three.  _

 

“If this cruel god of yours exists, count me amongst his foes.” Kurt replied and then turning towards the last of his companions, Queen Raven, First of Her Name. She had been the one that had brought forth the dragons they needed to find into the world. But she’d lost them to the wiles and foul magic of a monster in human flesh, the demon pirate Azazel. They needed to find him, needed to destroy him and free the dragons from his malign influence. 

 

Only then could they bathe the cold night in the bright light of dragonfire. Only then could they end the eternal night and endless winter. Only then would the realm know peace. Kurt had no idea what he’d do then. He’d been struggling all his life, with a troupe of mummers before joining a sacred order of warriors. But they were far away now, besieged by the army of the dead outside the Black Keep. His hand tightened on his sword.  _ Hopefully there are none of the ice hounds nearby. The last fight we had was nearly the end of us.  _

 

It was a fortunate thing that the Queen’s magical blood seemed to have healing properties, for the wound she’d taken from their jaws would otherwise surely have lamed her at best.  _ That would have been the end of us too. We can’t win without her and if she couldn’t walk, we would all be as good as dead.  _ And if the three of them died, if their tiny band perished, all the world would surely perish with them. 

“They’re close.” Raven said, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. “I can feel them. Calling out to me.” 

 

“Oh, that’s good! I’ve always wanted to see a dragon. Rita used to talk about dragons sometimes. They’re like dinosaurs but fly and breathe fire, right?” Longshot chimed in happily. As much of a madman as he was, Kurt had to admit he was an exceptional fighter and, also, he appeared to have considerable and valuable knowledge of the trials before them.  _ Perhaps when faced with the sea of madness, `tis better to drown.  _

 

“Dragons do not just fly around and breathe fire.” Raven replied vehemently, proudly. “They  _ are  _ fire and light and life, made flesh. They will bring the flame that will end this long winter. They will burn away the army of the dead.” Kurt knew that she, of all people, felt proudly indeed about her draconic children. Kurt couldn’t blame her, he’d feel much the same if he had dragons. Soon enough, he hoped that he would. 

 

“They won’t burn away anything if we don’t find them.” Kurt insisted, hoping that they wouldn’t start fighting again. Kurt got along just fine with either of them, but the two of them seemed to have got off on the wrong foot somehow and never really got back on the right one. They didn’t hate each other, not like Lord Longshot hated his foul demiurge Arcade, not like Raven hated the demon Azazel who had stolen her dragons, the dragons that were destined to save the world. 

 

Kurt thought of his brothers and sisters, fighting the vast army of the dead in the ruins of a great city, clustered around the Black Keep where they resided. He thought of the valiant Ser Summers, a brave and noble leader if one ever existed, of Little Piotr, the gigantic warrior who wore the heaviest, strongest suit of plate he’d ever seen- a man stronger than any he’d ever seen. Of Lady Grey, healer and sorceress, who could channel the power of a great and noble Phoenix Goddess. Of Logan, who refused to be called ‘knight’, the grim warrior, who used horrific claws to rend enemies. Still, he was brave and noble as all the others. 

 

Most of all, though, he thought of the Red Woman, the scarlet witch simply named Wanda, the woman who loved him enough to bring him out of the darkness. It had been a long while since he’d seen her last, but the memory of hot kisses were not far from his lips- even the memory of those kisses could keep him warm through the long night, through the winter with no end. Perhaps not, but it was a lovely thought. He hoped to be reunited with her again, to run his hands through her hair and hear her laugh. To watch as her crimson and black robes slid to the floor as she joined him in bed. 

 

“You’ll find her soon.” Raven promised. “Your friends will hold the line. Once we find the dragons, we can fly to them.” Kurt chose to believe, chose to accept that promise at face value. 

 

“Your girlfriend sounds really nice.” Longshot piped in. “Though it’s kind of funny because you didn’t talk about her bringing you back from the dead and stuff before. But that’s probably just Arcade rewriting things. He does that sometimes. But it’s kind of nice that you’ve stopped talking about how awful her father i-” He stopped speaking as Kurt fixed him with a venomous glare. 

 

“We don’t speak of him.  _ Ever. _ ” Kurt replied harshly. He didn’t want to waste a moment thinking about the False King, the blue-eyed tyrant that had betrayed his friends and fled to a far away land to scheme. “Begging your pardon, my lady.” He knew that the history between Queen Raven and the False King Lehnsherr was a complicated one. 

 

“Why are you my lady-ing her? She’s your mom. I’m pretty sure you don’t my-lady your mother. I mean, I don’t know that for sure …” Longshot stopped and looked at them. “You do remember that much, don’t you?” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kurt replied but what Longshot had said had touched a chord in him. When he looked towards Raven, he knew she felt it too. It was something they’d have to consider more, discover more, when all was well in the realm. But right now, they simply had too much work to do. Questions of maternity needed to be set aside. 

 

They came up to the top of a small bluff and looked down- and there they were, the three dragons, chained and calling in a sad plaintive song that was hauntingly beautiful. It was a song that Kurt never would have thought would come from such powerful and dangerous creatures. There were men there, Azazel’s pirates, the iron men of the high seas who reaved and burned their way through all the realm’s coastlines. 

 

“Ser Longshot .. we need to engage those men. Perhaps Raven can release the dragons in the meantime and woo them away from Azazel’s spell.” Kurt whispered underneath his breath. He drew his sword quietly. 

 

“Uh, sure, we can fight them.” Longshot drew a pair of knives from his costume. For all of his strange brand of madness, Kurt had to admit that Longshot was a capable fighter indeed. Kurt would take him at his side in any battle. For that matter, the Queen was a capable fighter herself. Offhandedly, that struck Kurt as somewhat odd, but it was an undeniable fact. 

The charge was a swift one, the two of them running in with swords drawn and heroic battle cries on their lips. The clash of swords, in comparison to their previously aimless wanderings in the cold, felt almost sweet by comparison. They were outnumbered, seven to two, but it scarcely mattered. Kurt and Longshot both could dance with the very best of men. 

 

Kurt remembered the lessons he’d had from the fencing master, how to seemingly disappear in front of a man, only to appear behind him. How to lash out with his legs to trip them to the ground. He’d learned how to use his natural agility to fight like a monkey, to do things that no man expected. Longshot was no less skilled than he, blades flashing in a whir as he struck and parried and  _ danced.  _

 

In mere seconds, three of the reavers were slain and the other four facing Longshot and Kurt looked more than slightly apprehensive of their task. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Raven dashing towards the dragons. 

 

“For the Dawn!” Kurt cried out as he and Longshot joined battle again, blades whirring, the night echoing with the clash of steel on steel. His heart hammered in his chest and his blood pumped excitedly through his body as his blade found its mark, once, twice, and another man had been sent to judgement. Longshot was doing no worse. Raven was working in the meantime to free the dragons from their chains. 

 

As the last of the reavers fell, in a flash of red and black smoke that reeked of hellfire and brimstone, Azazel arrived, a tall, strong man dressed in black and red pirate costume, wielding a pair of curved blades, one long and one short. With his red skin and horns and glowing yellow eyes he looked like a terrible devil, even more so than Kurt himself appeared. 

 

“Ah yes. You’ve come here, for what purpose? To stop me feeding upon the dying corpse of this world? To take from me what I desire?” Azazel laughed with utter disdain. “I take what I want, little boy.” Kurt saw Raven looking back over at them, frozen in terror, her eyes wide. “Knowledge, power … women …” His eyes flitted back towards Raven. “I take them all, I consume and infect them.”    
  


Kurt bellowed with a sudden rage that was like madness and charged at Azazel, but Azazel disappeared in another puff of red and black smoke and appeared behind Kurt, and it was all that Kurt could do to wheel around and deflect the stroke before it sliced him in two. Longshot joined the fight, but his dagger thrust was easily set aside by the smaller of Azazel’s blades. The two of them started battling together, but Azazel seemed like a match for the both of them, even with one eye. 

 

“You can’t defeat me, boy.” Azazel roared in triumph as he knocked both Kurt and Longshot down onto the ground. “Besides, you shouldn’t want to.” Longshot got up first, but Azazel struck him down almost immediately, though the blow was more with the flat of the blade than with the edge of it. Kurt had no idea how Longshot had been so fortunate, but as it was- he was unconscious. 

 

“You ever wondered why it was that you were born with that tail, that fur, with those sharp teeth?” Azazel grinned fiercely at him. 

 

“I have no desire to hear your lies.” Kurt staggered up to his feet. “Kill me if you’ve the skill to do so, but do it silently if you please.” 

 

“I’m your father, boy. Don’t deny it. It’s there in your blood. It screams in knowing.” Azazel reached up and removed his eyepatch to reveal a blackened eye that seemed to suck in the limited light around them and make everything darker inside it. Inside Azazel’s eyes, Kurt saw screaming, endless screaming, flames rising, the torment of the damned. 

 

“You lie!” Kurt roared, rage boiling his blood as he attacked ferociously, so much so that Azazel found himself forced on the defensive. “I’m not your son!” Their blades soon locked together, which meant that Azazel was able to his his superior strength to force Kurt down upon his knees. 

 

“I always lie, except when the truth hurts more.” Azazel laughed as he continued to press Kurt down into the ground with one blade, while the other one danced dangerously close to Kurt’s face. “Before you die, perhaps I’ll tell you about how I-” A low growl caused him to turn around, however, startled enough that his grasp released and Kurt was able to sink his blade deep into his belly. 

 

Azazel slashed quickly in response and Kurt was sent hurtling towards the ground, a deep gash across his face. But one of the dragons was rearing up in front of Azazel, with his mother-  _ his mother? Raven?  _ She was astride the dragon, staring down at it with fire in her eyes, a rage that put any that he’d felt absolutely to shame. It was the righteous rage of a woman scorned of a mother who’d seen her son nearly killed. Of someone who was confronting some manner of horrible, painful ghost from her past. 

 

“Raven …” Azazel breathed out, both eyes, the yellow and the black opening wide. “Raven, please … you loved me once …” He seemed strange and pathetic and oddly human in that moment. 

 

“I was an idiot once.” Raven replied with the pride of a great and noble queen, even as hot tears ran down her face. “You don’t deserve your son. He’s so much better than either of us.” The dragon snarled and reared back its head. 

 

“Raven …” Azazel whispered, blood pooling around the cold sand from the sword that remained stuck in his belly. Kurt knew the wound alone would prove fatal unless he saw a healer soon. “You can’t. You can’t …” 

 

Raven sniffed and even though the gesture seemed so vulnerable and human- Kurt knew there was a strength in that. His heart went out to her in that instant. His mother. He remembered then. He remembered everything. He remembered Genosha. Murderworld. The chase with the dogs and the wasps earlier. His friends. Wanda. Longshot talking about how Murderworld took people’s memories and twisted them around. 

 

“ _ Dracarys _ , motherfucker.” Raven pronounced with all the gravity of a goddess as Azazel was wreathed in unnaturally hot flames, melting and twisting and burning into ash. As his body continued to smoke and smoulder, the other two dragons came up towards Longshot and Kurt, obedient as trained dogs. 

 

“Well …” Longshot whistled as he slowly got up. “How about we go find your friends? These dragons ought to come in handy, don’t you think? Also, burning people stink. That is a really, really awful smell.” 

 

Kurt clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “I think these dragons will do very well indeed.” 

 

“Let’s burninate some motherfuckers.” Raven grinned broadly from her position atop a huge dragon. “We’re going to rescue the  _ fuck  _ out of the so-called cavalry.” 

 

“What does rescuing have to do with intercourse?” Longshot’s brow furrowed. 

 

“Figure of speech, friend. Let’s go.” Kurt teleported up on top one of the dragons with a  _ bamf.  _ He grinned a little mischievously. “Let’s go rescue the fuck out of our friends.” 

 

**_Well … that was exciting. And thrilling. And not at all worrying. I am not at all going to go yell at Arcade and figure out what the hell went wrong. It is not at all a problem that those three have giant reptile flying things and also access to their natural abilities._ **

 

**_YOU TOLD ME THAT GAME OF THRONES WAS A THING IN WHICH EVERYONE DIED ARCADE_ **

 

**_I mean! Ha ha! This will be fun, won’t it! They haven’t won yet!_ **

 

**_STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE OF MURDERWORLD!_ **

 

**_Hopefullynotthelastone_ **

 

**_SPIRAAAAAAL!_ **

  
  



	14. Rogue VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue tries to overcome her psychic torment. 
> 
> We get a glimpse of what is surely one of the most hideous creatures in the Marvel Universe.

She was nobody, nothing, had never been, would never be. 

 

She  _ wasn’t. _

 

At the end of the burning and suffering, when there was no voice left to scream, there was nothingness, a perfect Rogue-shaped hole in the world that had always been and always would be. She couldn’t feel the darkness, but somehow the nothingness that once called itself Rogue knew it was dark. She couldn’t feel the howling cold, but somehow she perceived that it was cold. 

 

_ An empty vessel.  _

 

She felt herself drift through the cold, black ether, the lacerating winds piercing through her, the screams of the damned now almost smothered by the omnipresent howling maelstrom. She was near the end now, near the very epicentre of Hell. She wondered if she’d meet the Devil. She’d never really believed in Satan, but then again, she’d hadn’t believed in Hell either and here she was. 

 

She couldn’t remember what had come before, except that once upon a time, she’d known heat as a pleasant thing dancing along her skin and cold as bracing, a flush breaking out on her face, her breath hanging in the air as a delicate cloud of mist. There was a time, she thought, where the voices she heard were people laughing and cursing, whispering and yelling and not just the screams of the damned. She couldn’t precisely remember it, but she knew that at one time, she’d felt things other than pain. 

 

She remembered one thing. She had once called herself Rogue.  _ Rogue.  _ Why had she called herself that? She’d had a name once, a proper name, why had she called herself that? Maybe even when she’d been someone, she’d secretly longed to hide that she was someone, to hide who she was.  _ But why? I can’t remember why. Why did I want the world to know me as Rogue?  _

 

Suddenly, she hit rock bottom with an unexpectedly satisfying  _ thud.  _ It hurt a little bit, but to feel something other than laceratingly cold winds or evil incarnated as fire, was as sweet as any kiss could be. Feeling impact also meant that she did, in fact, have a body, that she was, in some way a person. She was real. Unfortunately, that realization didn’t prevent the frigid winds from cutting across her skin- she longed for a warm jacket or one of her oversized hoodies, but even as miserable as she was, all of it meant that she had a body. 

 

_ I was born Anna-Marie. Mom calls me that usually, but Momma long ago just started calling me Rogue.  _

“And people think that Raven was the more stubborn of us. I’ve always thought you had a lovely name.” A familiar voice called from somewhere in front of her, a voice like warm honey. Rogue started walking in the direction she thought the voice was coming from. The ground was stony and it hurt her feet, but she kept going- even when she could feel the stones pricking her heels and when she knew that she was leaving little smears of blood in the stones. 

 

Ignoring the pain in her feet, Rogue continued to walk until she reached a door. Hand trembling slightly, she reached out to it, expecting it to be cold, expecting her skin to freeze to it immediately. When her hand wrapped around it, though, it was neither particularly warm nor cool. She grasped it tightly and turned the handle, walking through at the same time. 

 

Suddenly instead of being at the bottom of a hopelessly deep pit, bitten by howling winds, she was in a cozy parlour. Instead of watching her body burn away into ash, she felt the comforting warmth of a fireplace. Instead of utterly naked and totally vulnerable, she was wearing a green sundress, with black tights underneath and matching black gloves- an outfit that she’d always been fond of, her modification of her mother’s preference for dresses and skirts over pants. 

 

And there was her mother- and Rogue knew that because she  _ remembered  _ that. Her mother smiled at her warmly and Rogue remembered that, despite the wrinkles of age and her silvery hair, that she still thought her mother was beautiful. It was easy to see the great beauty she must’ve been when she was younger, and Rogue had seen pictures of her as a younger woman, a blonde actress no less lovely than any of the current crop of screen idols. Irene Adler’s blue eyes regarded her daughter with a virtual infinitude of emotions- concern, sympathy certainly among them, but more than anything,  _ love.  _

 

“You remember who you are now?” Her mother asked and Rogue suddenly realized how bizarre it was that she’d find her mother at the very bottom of Hell, but she also knew that she didn’t care. Maybe it was just that a mother’s love could transcend anything, even the veil between life and death. 

 

“I think so. It’s coming back to me.” Rogue replied, settling down into a comfortable chair and realizing there was a cup of hot tea there- and she  _ knew  _ it was good, propertea like she’d get when visiting Mom in Mississippi. She had nothing particularly against ordinary tea, but there was nothing like a hot cup of tea and a good book on a cool evening on the porch. 

 

And suddenly, that’s exactly where they were- the boiling heat of the day calmed into something decent, a cool breeze blowing through her hair. Rogue smiled at that, couldn’t help but smile. There was even a book on her lap, a well-worn copy of  _ A Wrinkle In Time,  _ a book she’d loved since she was a little kid. She felt the urge to pick up the book, to feel the paper on her fingers and  _ read,  _ to immerse herself in a world of words. Rogue knew, however, that she needed to keep the book closed, that she had more important things to do here. It remained on her lap, a bookmark stuck about a third of the way in. 

 

Even the tea had gone from a hot cup to a cool glass of sweet tea, maybe the one thing she truly liked better than regular hot tea. 

 

“A mother’s love  _ is  _ more powerful than all the demons in Hell, Anna-Marie.” Her mother spoke, in a quiet and gentle tone, but with unshakeable moral power. “And so are you. Hell is nothing more than the sum total of our fears.” 

 

“And I suppose that makes Heaven where our hope takes flight?” Rogue replied with a small smile. 

 

“I suppose it does.” Her mother replied with a gentle smile playing on her lips for a moment before her face became more contemplative and reflective. “I’d love to stay and chat, of course, but we both know that you’ve got work to do.” 

 

Rogue didn’t know that before she’d said it but then it all came back to her, the plane fighting to Genosha, the fighting with the soldiers, the beginning of the strange series of illusions. Rogue  _ remembered  _ and as she remembered, she felt strength surge back into her muscles. She hadn’t ended up in Hell for her sins. Someone had made her live through all that for their twisted amusement. They had Momma, those sick bastards had Momma. 

 

“Anna-Marie?” Her mother asked, sipping her tea and setting down the cup, blue eyes looking intently into her own green ones. 

 

“Yes, Mom?” Rogue replied. 

 

“Make the bastards  _ pay,  _ darling.” Irene’s face broke out into a little grin. “Show them what’s coming to people who try to hurt the people we love.” 

 

“With pleasure, Mom.” And all the fear and doubt was washed away like dirt in a spring rain and Rogue felt reborn. Her fists clenched and as the vision of the breezy evening on the porch in Mississippi faded and became the cold metallic surroundings of a laboratory, her resolve only hardened. By the time she was fully in the real world again, she’d already ripped out of her steely confinement, the strong manacles tearing like tissue paper. There were guards and they fired at her with their weapons but their bullets bothered her no more than light hail, the energy bolts that were supposed to burn through flesh feeling no worse than water balloons that had been left out in the sun too long. 

 

Rogue ignored them and soared out towards the large door, accelerating to her top speed and ramming into it as hard as she could, punching a hole through it at the same time as she knocked it completely off its hinges. She nearly hit the next wall, but managed to stop herself just on time, her acceleration stopping immediately, with a g-force so great that she felt momentarily faint- she was sure it would’ve ripped an ordinary person to shreds. 

 

Once inside, Rogue stopped for a moment and looked around at the lab around her. It was dark and cold and as she looked around, she saw something that made her gasp- half-formed human beings suspended in a greenish-yellow fluid, some of them essentially skeletons, others with half-formed organs floating about haphazardly in a translucent artificial skin, a few that looked almost complete. She fought the momentary urge to throw up at the disgustingness of it all. 

 

“I see you’ve awakened. Lovely girl. How do you like my handiwork here?” Rogue turned around to be confronted by the most disgusting sight she’d ever seen, a loathsome creature that was mostly head, with two pairs of arms and a far too small pair of legs stuck into the enormous head. Its eyes were milky-pale and enormous, the eyeballs the size of basketballs, a grotesque smile that threatened to split its grossly oversized head in two, teeth that were as big and sharp as knives and a huge slobbering tongue that lashed out a full ten feet in front of it. 

 

“You are the ugliest sonofagun I ever saw.” Rogue replied and soared towards him, fist first, aiming to crash right into his hideous mouth and knock out some of those teeth. It was a little astonishing when she found herself caught in the grasp of that gigantic slobbering tongue and even more so when she realized it was actually  _ sharp.  _

 

“Oh, sweet, sweet girl. You can’t fight me.” Rogue wondered how it- she was guessing it was a he, but that seemed like a dignity too great for this hideous abomination to possess. Then she saw a quick glimpse down into its gullet and saw, of all things, a  _ second tongue  _ flopping about, oversized as well, but not as long as the slavering razor she was currently caught in. He opened his mouth, not with a movement of the jaw like an ordinary person, but by somehow rearranging his mass.  _ He’s going to try and eat me alive.  _ “You taste so good. I wonder how you’ll feel crushed in my teeth.” 

 

Rogue’d been covered in some sort of bodily sheath and as she felt the blade-like tongue cut into her flesh, she felt the hideous creature twitch and the tongue immediately go slack and slither inside its oversized mouth. The strength in its legs failed it and the huge head flopped helplessly to the ground, flailing about. Rogue flew over immediately- fighting back the even more grotesque thoughts of the creature, her blood boiling in rage at the horrible things the Sugar Man had done, grasping the Sugar Man by one of its arms. She flew out of the lab and into the dome, and then she bodily hurled the disgusting fiend as hard as she could, until it was a speck on the horizon. 

 

That task accomplished, Rogue took off back towards the laboratory, now crashing upwards floor after floor, until she reached a gleaming control room up top, where a thin, red-haired man was barking orders in an agitated voice. He turned around then and his eyes went wide. “Kill her!” He screamed out shrilly, but the women manning the controls did no such thing. Rogue realized that he didn’t even have guards at this point.

 

The women, many of whom seemed to be hiding bruises of varying sizes and colours underneath heavy makeup did nothing to either assist or harm Rogue. The redhaired man-  _ Arcade,  _ Rogue remembered, from her brief, but all-too-long glimpse inside the twisted mind of the Sugar Man, then drew a gun himself and Rogue instinctively knew that it would be powerful enough to at least harm her if not kill her outright. 

 

Rogue was far faster than he could ever hope to be, though, and in a flash, before he’d even managed to pull the trigger, she’d reached where he was, her hand wrapping around both hand and gun and clenching down, causing Arcade to scream out in pain as the bones in his hand crunched. He continued to scream as his knees buckled and he sank to the floor. 

 

Ultimately, however, she let him go, the crumpled remnant of the gun falling from his ruined, bleeding hand. 

 

“Where’s my Momma?” Rogue demanded, picking him up again by the lapels. 

 

“I don’t know- I don’t know where your precious mother is-” Arcade was interrupted as the huge glass wall at the back of the viewing area collapsed utterly and a huge dragon burst into it, sending the women at the controls screaming towards the doors from where they’d been watching Rogue attack Arcade with, she thought, some satisfaction. On the back of the dragon, however, was her Momma, with a ferocious grin on her face. 

 

Arcade whimpered and looked up at Raven and the colossal dragon before them, a huge black beast that filled the bulk of the room. 

 

“... fine. You win. You win! Get out of here! Take your people and leave. Look. I’ll turn it off.” Arcade hobbled over to a comically huge red button and pressed it, which caused the dragon to instantaneously disappear, causing Raven to fall to the ground, looking mildly dejected for a moment. Rogue turned back towards Arcade, picking him up and giving him a sharp little slap, not too hard- she didn’t want to kill him, but hard enough to knock him out. He went limp and she dropped him to the ground. 

 

“The illusions are all off now, I guess.” Raven’s eyes went wide all of the sudden- “Kurt!” She screamed as she ran towards the shattered window, but just as she did, there was a  _ bamf  _ and a rush of air and two young men, one a somewhat-strange looking blue-furred man with a tail and the other a scandalously pretty blond guy appeared, both looking acutely startled but mostly all right. 

 

“I didn’t expect the dragon to disappear so quickly-” The blond guy looked over at her and smiled a little shyly. “Oh hello.” 

 

“Hi.” Rogue replied, suddenly feeling slightly shy herself. 

 

“You can have your awkward teenage greetings later. We’ve got to find the others and get the fuck out of here.” Raven declared. “Even if we’ve cleared the Dome, the Genoshan military’s surely cottoned on to where we are. They’ll be sending reinforcements.” 

 

“... so what happens to me?” The blond guy asked. “I mean, I didn’t come with you guys, but-” 

 

“You go with us.” The blue-furred man replied, in a thick German accent. “I promised you as such. If it means that Wanda sits on my lap on the way back, so be it.” He grinned.

 

“It’s nice when girls sit on your lap.” The blond guy replied with a guileless smile. “But your mother is right, we should go soon.” 

 

“... we can have all the awkward as fuck introductions  _ later.  _ Let’s go.” Raven looked out towards Murderworld below, though now that Rogue looked out at it, it was merely a large space now, not the infinity it had seemed only a moment earlier. “Let’s find those goons that tried to rescue us and get out of here.” 

  
  



	15. The Fallen Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what's Warren been up to this last little while? 
> 
> Well, now you get a glimpse of it. Also, the Hellfire Club is involved.

Warren Worthington looked at himself in the mirror, his wings naturally spreading out of its frame. He extended them as far as they could go, their wingspan taking up nearly twenty feet. He knew that any moment he’d have to put them back into the harness, to hide them away, to endure the physical discomfort and whatever else he’d have to suffer. His father had made it very clear that he considered Warren’s mutation to be some sort of unfortunate disease and while he wasn’t going to disown the boy, he intended that Warren play down his mutation as much as possible. 

 

That was why he’d been forced to leave Xavier’s, pulled out just as he was finishing his senior year, taking the rest of the courses by correspondence. It was well-known that the Xavier Institute was a school for mutants, after all. It followed that it was widely known that Warren was a mutant, but his father didn’t want any more attention given to that than necessary. He’d already made Warren express at least guarded support for the Mutant Registration Act and he’d furthermore forbade Warren to spend much time with his friends. 

 

_ And now I’ve got to carry on pretending in Father’s social circle. No doubt that someone like Sebastian Shaw has no interest in being around mutants- after all, he’s funding and building the Sentinels.  _

 

After a long moment looking at himself as he truly was in the mirror, Warren curled up his wings as tightly as they could go naturally, before his manservant came up to put him in the harness. Harold had said nothing about the task one way or the other and did his work as quietly and efficiently as possible, and Warren for his part, tried not to cry out or show the pain in his face as his wings, once his pride and glory, were bound away from him, virtually invisible. 

 

Harold had bound them especially tight that day, because it was doubly essential that nobody see them- that the Hellfire Club not have to know that any of its members were, in fact, mutants. Warren drew his face tight- there was no denying it this time, his wings  _ hurt,  _ bound away, and his soul didn’t feel much better. He’d have to look at the skies and know that he couldn’t go up and soar amongst them, that he had to remain an earthbound creature. 

 

Once his wings were bound up, it was time to finish dressing, to put on a suit that cost more than the yearly wages of most people around the world, accessorized with a shirt that was as valuable as a month’s wages for a retail worker, and a tie that was nearly as valuable again. Warren looked in the mirror again and practiced smiling, practiced not letting his discomfort show. He’d grown good at it over the last several months. 

 

Warren wondered how his friends were getting on- Scott, Hank, Bobby … Jean. The last he’d heard from any of them, there’d been some sort of trouble at the Mansion. Someone had tried to attack them. Warren frowned, feeling that he should have been there, though realistically, he knew he had relatively little to offer compared to the more powerful people on the team, nevermind Pietro or Wanda. Still, however, it was difficult hearing that you weren’t there when your friends possibly needed you. 

 

Warren knew that Jean and Scott had finally got together, and though he’d wanted for a long time to be the lucky guy to date Jean Grey, he’d known for some time that she’d loved Scott.  _ I just hope he’s smart enough to understand how lucky he is and that he doesn’t mess it up.  _ It was sort of funny, though, Warren realized to spend so much time thinking about Jean Grey. He’d actually … he wasn’t sure if he’d precisely call it dating with Wanda, but it was something. 

 

_ Two fundamentally lonely people trying very hard not to be lonely together.  _ That was certainly one way to look at the brief fling he’d had with Erik’s daughter- or maybe, as Wanda might say herself, they were simply bored and horny. It really didn’t matter, because whatever it had been, it was over now. The Institute was likely going to be nothing more than a memory for him, a brief time in his life when he could openly take pride in being a mutant, when he could fly for hours every day. 

 

Finishing dressing, he went downstairs, where the cook had left out a cinnamon roll, some fruit salad and a cup of coffee, one cream, one sugar, just the way he liked it. While eating his breakfast, Warren perused the news. It was full of the usual ominous news about the Mutant Registration Act, as well as hysteria over mutant sightings and a depressing story about the murder of a pair of school-aged children by Purifiers. When he’d read that, he’d turned the paper to the financial pages, as if assuring himself that he and his family were still incredibly rich would somehow make the current tragedies and ominous future developments better somehow. 

 

_ I’m a mutant too, I shouldn’t try to ignore this. But that’s what I’m supposed to do, for the sake of, what? My father’s pride? Our company?  _ Warren wanted to do something angry and immature like throw his coffee mug against the wall. But he forced himself to remain cool, to finish it and set everything down neatly, so that the maid wouldn’t have to work too hard to clean it all up. Everything eaten, he went out towards the door, where the chauffeur was waiting to drive him into the city. 

 

Warren realized as they’d been driving for about ten minutes how much he hated being in a car now, realizing that he could fly far faster than the car could realistically go, with the traffic. That he could make the distance in mere minutes rather than the better part of an hour. The fact that he had WiFi, a mini-fridge and television inside the limousine meant little to him compared to the sheer joy of being able to spread his wings and fly, to feel the cold air in the upper atmosphere, to whoop with excitement as he drove and rolled and turned. 

 

_ It seems so damn unfair- my powers are harmless, but I still have to hide them like I’ve got some sort of plague.  _ It felt good to believe that people were fundamentally just jealous of his abilities, but Warren knew better than that. He knew that his father wasn’t envious of his ability to fly, but ashamed that his son was a mutant, that his mother pitied him for what she thought was some horrid congenital disorder that he’d somehow inherited. 

 

He knew that when his wings had started to grow, that he’d gone for multiple surgeries, while his mother threw herself into finding and funding a ‘cure’ for superhuman mutation. But nothing stopped Warren’s wings from growing- they simply grew back every time they tried to do anything to them and eventually his father had allowed him to go to the Xavier Institute, thinking that Charles intended to think of ways to suppress or hide Warren’s mutation. 

 

Of course, Charles Xavier had no intention whatsoever of following such a mandate and had instead taught Warren to be proud of who he was. As much as he appreciated Charles’s good intentions, he thought the man was dreadfully naive in at least one way. It was true that Warren was a mutant, but unlike the others, he couldn’t throw himself into that identity wholeheartedly. He was also a Worthington, an elite member of the great American aristocracy. He had responsibilities that went with that identity that went well beyond what anyone else at the Institute had to contend with. 

 

Warren doubted that any of them would understand that, though he wished they would. He wanted to maintain his friendships, some of the best he’d ever had in his life, but he realistically considered it unlikely. He would be pretty much forced to play the part of the ‘good mutant’, someone who was visibly for the Mutant Registration Act, someone who people like Senator Robert Kelly could trot out as evidence that it was a good law. 

 

Warren knew that his friends at the Institute condemned the Mutant Registration Act full stop, but he himself believed that it was probably a necessity, though he hoped that many of its more onerous elements would be ameliorated. Mutants legitimately could be dangerous. As much as he loved people like Scott and Jean, they were incredibly powerful people who could not be dealt with by ordinary law enforcement. He was certain that Wanda would hang him from a sour apple tree for expressing such a sentiment, to say nothing of her father, but he truly thought he was right. 

 

Admitting that there was some legitimacy to the need for some sort of framework for dealing with those mutants who chose to use their powers for criminal ends was one thing, but the provisions of the law were potentially catastrophic. Firstly, Warren thought that an involuntary registry applied universally was a colossal disaster in the making. It was one thing to register known mutant criminals or people who had been known to cause major incidents with their powers, but another thing to have a universal registry of all mutants. 

 

Warren also believed that it was disastrous for anyone other than perhaps a handful of government agencies to see the registry- if employers could access it, for instance, he knew that at least half the employers in the country would immediately blacklist all known mutants. He also knew that insurance companies would refuse to take on mutants, he knew that his father had unofficially done it with Worthington Financial’s insurance offerings. Mutants were politically unpopular and people didn’t want to be seen as being openly in favor of them. 

 

_ Perhaps I can actually get something positive done out of all this. And maybe if I need to suffer for it, that’s just the price I choose to pay.  _ It was a pleasant lie, a thought that gave him a little dignity and allowed him to pretend that he wasn’t simply doing this to please his father. That he was motivated by heroism or martyrdom and not moral cowardice. Maybe if he spent enough time thinking that it was true, he’d start believing it. 

 

Warren knew, though, deep down, that any conviction he could muster in that direction would wilt like a rose in winter in the face of any of several of the people he’d known at the Xavier Institute. He couldn’t possibly face the empathetic passion of someone like Jean Grey, the coolly enlightened logic of someone like Hank McCoy, Wanda’s fierce conviction or perhaps even more than any of the others, the mountainous moral certainty of Scott Summers. 

 

Warren had teased Scott Summers as much as any of them when he’d first encountered the man, but now removed slightly from him, he had to admit not only admiration, but jealousy. For all the slightly younger man’s angst about his uncontrollable mutant powers and social awkwardness, Warren was pretty sure he’d never met a person with greater moral courage, someone who would more unflinchingly do the right thing. He’d inherited every bit of his adoptive father’s idealism, but had married it to an immense drive. 

 

_ There’s the makings of a hell of a superhero team there. I wish I could be there with them, but what good, really, is a slightly resilient guy who can fly? Jean can do the same with her telekinesis. Bobby can make ice. Scott can destroy anything by looking at it. Hank’s become so strong and powerful. Wanda’s practically magic and Pietro can break the speed of sound.  _

 

Finally, his limousine arrived at the imposing Fifth Avenue location of the Hellfire Club, his chauffeur coming around to open the door for him. When he stepped out into the cold air and walked up the huge marble stairs of the Club, he felt his heart beating a little faster. He wondered how many people there knew that he was a mutant and if so, how they would react to him. Would they maintain respectful silence about it? Would they talk about him behind his back? Or say something pitying and condescending. 

 

As he entered through the gigantic wooden doors of the Club’s main entrance, he was immediately greeted by a small party, including two very important people indeed. Sebastian Shaw was an imposing man, tall and strong- the small glasses that he wore did absolutely nothing to make him look less powerful. Warren knew that the man’s drive was immense and his ability for work legendary- it was said that Shaw could sleep only a few hours a night without any harm done. It was also said that Shaw liked to quietly frequent underground fight clubs and Warren found it strangely believable. 

 

The woman that was with him was far younger and breathtakingly beautiful, with an almost impossibly perfect face and body. He’d known Emma Frost since he was a boy and she a slightly awkward brunette girl with a nose slightly too big for her face and an ambition that even then was remarkable. She’d grown into that nose, though, and become a statuesque beauty, though he was pretty certain she actually dyed her hair. Sapphire-blue eyes regarded him coolly for a moment before she smiled slightly at him. 

 

“Hello Warren.” Emma Frost walked towards him, leaning in to kiss his cheek, whisper-light. “I’m so glad you could make it today.” 

 

“Likewise.” Warren couldn’t help but grin and return the favor, before being sidelined by Sebastian, who came and shook his hand with a grip so firm that was just short of being painful. 

 

“Glad to hear it, Warren.” Sebastian grinned broadly at him. “As it happens, the two of us have an offer for you.” 

 

“An offer I can’t refuse?” Warren joked, but somehow he had the feeling that that was closer to the mark than he would like to think of it. Sebastian Shaw and Emma Frost were both exceedingly powerful people in their fields and beyond. He knew that Sebastian basically owned Senator Kelly and a number of other prominent politicians. Emma likewise had vast influence through her ownership of Frost Media and its associated television channels, print and online outlets. 

 

Sebastian laughed. “Come now, Warren. I’m not some sort of Mafia Godfather. But you’d be a fool to refuse it.” They went along long corridors and Warren noted that eventually the doors changed from light and ornate ones into much heavier ones and that the guards had gone from being ceremonial to clearly being serious in intent, openly carrying sophisticated-looking automatic weapons. 

 

“What do you know about the Hellfire Club, Warren?” Emma asked, her voice somewhere between coolly curious and a warm purr. She glanced over at him and he suddenly became aware that she was looking him over. He could only hope that he didn’t visibly blush- it would be silly for him to come across as some blushing schoolboy. 

 

“I’ve been to several of their events- not the really fun ones, though.” Warren smiled slightly awkwardly, wondering if he was actually being invited to some sort of orgy and while he’d certainly have no objections to sleeping with Emma, Sebastian wasn’t his type. He didn’t  _ think  _ that was what the two of them had in mind, though he knew the two of them were at least occasional lovers. “Is there something more than I should know?” 

 

“Oh yes.” Sebastian replied with a slightly enigmatic smile that looked profoundly worrying on the man. “Everything. Tell me, Warren, do you sometimes tire of being in your father’s shadow? I don’t mean it insultingly, mind.” 

 

_ Yes, yes I do. I tire of it and I chafe under it. It keeps me chained to the Earth when I could fly. Yes, Sebastian, it exhausts me more than you could ever know.  _

 

“I’m not in my father’s shadow, I’m proud to carry on the Worthington legacy.” Warren replied with all the feigned pride he could muster. 

 

“Of course you are.” Emma replied. “But all the same, don’t you think it’s time you started carving out your own influence in the world?” 

 

“Well, I suppose I’d be wondering what you had in mind.” Warren replied noncommittally, as they passed into a breathtakingly grand room where a number of people were sitting around a huge table. He recognized several of the people there, Donald Pierce, Harry Leland, Sebastian’s son, Shinobi. There were a few unfamiliar faces though, a large, somewhat portly man with prominent mutton-chops and a woman with eyes black as night, that seemed to suck in the ambient light. She was undeniably beautiful but also terrifying.  _ And a mutant. Eyes like that aren’t natural.  _

“We’d like to welcome you to the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club, Warren.” Sebastian turned to him. “Here, you can be your own man and make your own destiny.” Sebastian smiled faintly and picked up a bar of steel that was sitting incongruously on the table and bent it between his fingers as if it were silly-putty, making a hideous groaning noise. “And when you’re with us, you need not restrain those wings of yours. We’re almost all mutants here.” 

 

Warren’s jaw dropped.  _ This isn’t real. That isn’t possible.  _

 

_ It is, Warren, I assure you. It is very real.  _ Warren turned around to face Emma as she was speaking to him only to realize that she was speaking directly inside his mind- which mean that she was a telepath. 

 

“But if you’re a mutant, Sebastian … the Registration Act, the Sentinels …” It all seemed incomprehensible to Warren. 

 

“All will be explained soon, Warren.” Sebastian replied with a smile. “How about it, Warren? A place where you can build your own legacy, where you can be all that you are, proudly, without need for shame or hiding?” 

 

_ More than anything, more than you could possibly know.  _

 

“I’m intrigued, Sebastian.” Warren replied with a faint smile. “I can’t wait to hear more.” 


	16. Erik III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magneto breaks into a Stark Enterprises facility and has a confrontation with Iron Man.

“Sir, we’re going to need more than your assurances that Mr. Stark wants to see you to let you through.” The guard spoke in a tight tone that betrayed no hint of fear, no suggestion that he had any idea whom he was speaking to. “Now, if you can’t present official papers or Level 4 clearance, I suggest you take your fancy car and drive back the way you came, before I take you in.” 

 

“Thank you for that suggestion.” Erik Lehnsherr replied, intentionally thickening his accent until the guard at the window could practically  _ feel  _ the umlauts. “But I will not be going anywhere but inside.” 

 

The guard drew a gun and pointed it towards Erik. “Come out of the car, nice and slow. We can have a nice, long chat in the holding cell.” Now, however, the man was a little nervous. He was probably wondering if Erik worked for HYDRA. Erik reached up his hands as if to surrender, moved as if he were about to leave the car, but instead he smiled and snapped his fingers as a colossal electromagnetic pulse wave rippled out, flattening the guard’s hut, a huge section of the fence, hurling the guard by his body armour and his gun, slamming into the ruins of the hut. 

 

Erik Lehnsherr stepped neatly out of the car and walked through the gate which had been burst asunder. Men were gathering on all sides with automatic weapons, primed and ready to fire. By a rough count, about two dozen of them. Were he but a man, it would be an intimidating sight indeed. 

 

They might as well have been ants to Erik. 

 

“Get down on your knees with your hands up!” 

 

Erik turned towards the man who seemed to be in charge and smiled faintly, a cloud of what seemed like dust wrapping around him, covering him in crimson and purple armour, made of adamantium mesh, suspended around him by his powers. He gestured and suddenly, all of the weapons were torn out of the soldier’s grasps, some of them being flung onto the ground as their weapons flew away from them. 

 

“You were saying, gentlemen?” Erik Lehnsherr replied with a faint little smile, mostly hidden underneath his helmet. The guns suspended in the air moved closer to the men. “I believe you were making a threat. A colossally empty threat, of course, but a threat nonetheless. I do not take threats kindly.” The guns cocked. “Get down on your knees and put your hands up in the air. Surrender now and you’ll live. There need not be blood today.” 

 

The guards all did as they were told, sinking to their knees and putting their hands up. Erik grasped portions of the fence, flattening the barbed razor wire into something relatively harmless, tying their hands and feet together with it in a few swift gestures. When it was all done, he used his powers to force them to the ground. For the time that he was needed, they would be secure. He continued his way inside the complex, simply using his powers to twist and tear open doors that required DNA, voice and retinal scans to defeat. 

 

_ This is all almost disappointingly easy,  _ Erik thought to himself as he continued to simply walk into the Stark facility, aided with his enormous powers and a previous knowledge of the facility. It had been under the aegis of Stark Enterprises, after all, that Erik had first learned to synthesize adamantium and it was here where much of his old research had been kept under wraps, including a device would allow him to amplify his powers at will, to an extent unimagined. Instead of being able to knock out a singular building’s power with an electromagnetic pulse perhaps he could knock out entire cities, perhaps even an entire country. 

 

_ The power of civilization depends entirely on its technology. Threaten that and the governments of the world will cave in like dominoes.  _ Erik cast a look around the laboratory and came to the final series of doors, this one built with an adamantium lining of his own design. For almost anyone else, it would be a virtually impassable obstacle, at least through main force. But for Erik, a man for whom the laws of physics bent down in reverent worship? 

 

_ It’s made out of metal and anything made out of metal is mine to control. The door might as well be made of wet paper.  _ He reached out with his hand and tore it right out of the hinges and hurled it against the door, crashing through the wall with a terribly loud  _ thud.  _ He started to look in when he felt a sudden force strike him in the back, sending him down towards the ground roughly. 

 

_ I should not be careless,  _ Erik thought.  _ My armour absorbed more than ninety-five percent of the force to that blow, if it had not, I’d be incapacitated at best, if not killed outright.  _ He remained still on the ground, remembering when he was a helpless boy, how he’d once laid under the bodies of his parents, pretending to be dead as well. He’d fooled the guards but not the Doctor. The suspended armour hid the fact that he was breathing normally. 

 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you picked the wrong lab to steal from, bucko.” Erik knew that voice instantly as belonging to Tony Stark, no doubt wearing that infernal armour of his. He reached out with his mind, doing his best to suppress a smile or a laugh.  _ How little you know, Stark.  _ Erik remembered the blustering, arrogant man well, a drink eternally in his hand, a beautiful woman constantly at his side. Always ready to profit from someone else’s success. 

 

Erik hadn’t come here expecting to find Iron Man, but Erik wasn’t disappointed that he was here. Erik could have ended the fight as soon as it began, killed the man instantly if he chose- but where was the fun in that? He used his magnetic powers to right himself up again, throwing up a shield immediately to counter the expected blast from Tony’s repulsors. 

 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here. You’ve always loved stealing other people’s research and using it for your own. I remember Vanko.” Erik replied, gesturing with his hand and bringing a car-sized bank of computers crashing towards Tony, who managed to get out of the way with the rockets on his boots. “You stole his research. You stole Pym’s.” 

 

“... Erik Lehnsherr?” The slightly computerized voice of Tony Stark replied in obvious surprise. “I didn’t steal anything from you. You worked for me and I decided to shelve a lot of your research. Thanks for the invention of adamantium, though. That one’s paid very nicely for my retirement fund. So where’d you get the powers? HYDRA?” Another blast from the repulsors, clearly at a higher power setting. “Or some other group of crazies? Funny, last I heard you were teaching school at the Xavier Institute.” 

 

“I was.” Erik replied. “And that fact should tell you everything you need to know about where I got these powers.” Another huge piece of supercomputer sailed towards Stark, who managed to blow it up with miniaturized rockets before it reached him. “For such a self-proclaimed genius, you certainly seem to struggle with what should be obvious conclusions.” 

 

“Wow, did you practice that? Not bad. I’d give it about a 6 out of 10 on the Villain One-Liner Chart.” Tony quipped as he flew towards Erik, but suddenly found himself stopped cold. To Tony’s credit, the effort of restraining the Iron Man armour at full blast was palpable, but Erik held onto it. It had been a diverting game for a short while, but now he needed to get on with it. 

 

“Always with the snappy lines, Stark.” Erik Lehnsherr smiled faintly as he reached out with his magnetic powers into every tiny bit of Stark’s Iron Man armour. Much of it wasn’t properly metal, but rather an advanced plasteel, but more than enough of it was for his purposes. An electromagnetic pulse wouldn’t do it- Stark’s protection was more than enough against that. 

 

Instead, Erik opted for brute force, reaching out and tearing the armour to bits, ripping its component parts off of Stark until he was clad simply in his own clothes, and collapsed hard onto the floor. Erik’s hand dropped down and countless individual bits of Iron Man’s armour fell to the ground around him. Erik then walked up towards Tony, looking down over the man as he struggled to get up. 

 

“You claim to be a futurist, a man who sees the future and brings it into being with his money and his toys. You’ve become so obsessed with these things that you’ve become blind to the truth. The keys to the future are not in laboratories like this. They reside in the blood of countless millions of mutants, living and as yet unborn.” Erik reached out again and Iron Man’s own wrist bracers wrapped around Stark and fixed him to the wall. 

 

Tony looked at him evenly for a moment and then shook his head. “Lehnsherr … weren’t your parents Holocaust survivors? Because I really, really wouldn’t expect a Jewish person with parents who survived the Holocaust to be rambling on about blood like that. I mean, you’re basically saying that, what, mutants are some sort of … master race?” 

 

Erik knew that the line was intended to anger him and he could feel his blood heat at the insinuation, but he forced himself to remain calm and simply smile coldly at Stark. “My parents were not Holocaust survivors, Stark.  _ I was.  _ I suffered like you could not even imagine. I hid in a toilet in the ghetto, suffocating on the stink of it as the men used dogs and stethoscopes to hunt for us like rats. I lay still amid the bodies of my parents, soaked in their blood. Their doctors experimented on me for years. You know nothing about these things, Tony Stark.” 

 

“You know, it’d be better if you just said “you know nothing”. Then you’d be making a Game of Thrones reference.” Tony tried his best to look nonchalant, to sound jocular. “And if you’re trying to create sympathy, you could’ve made an Internet meme. The kids these days love those, I’m told.” 

 

“Do not stand in my path.” Erik finally replied as he wrapped Stark up in bands made out of one of the railings. “I have been merciful today. I may not choose to be so kind in the future.” And with that, Erik left Tony Stark there to find what he’d come to this place for. The final door was a remarkably flimsy one compared to the great adamantium-reinforced one that had marked the way to the main storehouses and he cast it aside without difficulty. 

 

And there it was- the electromagnetic pulse enhancer that he’d constructed, capable of taking an EMP from any source and enhancing it vastly, turning a tactical weapon into a strategic one, capable of taking out entire cities- and as Erik knew, with the way that the power grid of North America was interconnected, wiping out the power supply of one city could potentially cause vast dislocations throughout a huge part of the grid. One sufficiently large and well-enough cited could take out the entirety of the Northeastern United States, along with large parts of the Midwest and most of the industrial areas of Canada as well. 

 

It was simplicity itself to simply levitate the device out and burst through the roof, soaring up into the night sky, moving out towards the abandoned bunker that he’d made into a base of operations. The night air felt cool against his face, a welcome relief, for it had become terribly hot inside his armour, which he quickly dispelled. It followed him as a nearly invisible cloud of fine metallic particles, ready to reassemble at a second’s notice. 

 

About ten minutes later, he’d landed at the bunker, moving around the equipment he’d assembled, with the electromagnetic pulse generator now occupying a place of pride. Erik knew it wouldn’t be ready for some time, unfortunately, he would doubtlessly have to do serious repairs and remove whatever safeguards Stark had put into it. That would take time- but that suited him just as well, because he needed one or two more outrages to occur before he unleashed his grand plan. 

 

Erik supposed that it was a minor mistake leaving Stark more or less unharmed, though he would be out an extremely expensive combat suit. He didn’t doubt that Tony would work as hard as possible to create a suit that was resistant to magnetism, but Erik frankly doubted the man could create such a thing in the timeframe that was necessary and, even if he could, Erik could easily best him in any number of other ways. 

 

Once he’d placed the device appropriately, he took out his cell phone and dialed Raven’s number. 

 

“You’ve got some nerve talking to me right now, Erik.” The voice on the phone sounded newly angry. “I thought that maybe it would be you that would come save me, but your former students beat you to the punch.” That admittedly confused Erik slightly.  _ Xavier’s students? What happened?  _ He had been busy over the last several weeks plotting and building resources for the war to come. 

 

“Raven. I did not know about Kurt. Perhaps I should have. What happened?” There was no feigning the concern. 

 

“I was kidnapped and taken to fucking Genosha. And put in a reality show. And no thanks to you, I managed to find my way out.” Raven practically hissed into the phone. “And you haven’t even fucking apologized. I want to hear it, Erik. Now.” 

 

“Raven. I didn’t know. I made a mistake-” 

 

“An actual fucking apology. Two or three words and maybe then we can move on to whatever you’ve called over. Unless it’s a booty call, because then you can just go fuck yourself with an adamantium dildo.” Erik had to resist the urge to chuckle at Raven’s crassness. He’d always secretly enjoyed it, how little she cared about propriety around him. It wasn’t necessarily fun to be on the receiving end of it, but he understood her anger well enough. 

 

He could indulge her. 

 

“I’m sorry, Raven. I’m so sorry.” Erik breathed out and he supposed it was sincere enough, though he’d never enjoyed apologizing. It was hard enough to admit error, but an apology also threw motives into question. And Erik did not enjoy having his motives questioned. Those he would not compromise on. 

 

“That’s a start.” Raven replied and Erik knew that her anger was softening a little hearing it.  _ She loves me, always has, always will. She’s angry now, but she’ll forgive me.  _ “Now what the hell are you wanting to talk about?” 

 

“I have the device, Raven. I’m going to need your home for wayward children to be ready when the time comes. I also need you to contact an old friend of yours. You remember Black Tom Cassidy, yes? Him and his gigantic boyfriend, whom, as I recall, has some manner of grudge against Charles Xavier?” That was an understatement of an extreme sort. Cain Marko hated his half-brother with everything he had, but he’d stayed away from Xavier. For all his immense power, he was still vulnerable to Charles’s telepathy. 

 

“I can find him.” Raven replied evenly. “He won’t come cheap, though.” 

 

Erik glanced over his shoulder and with a gesture, turned the wheel of an enormous walk-in safe, looking inside the door to see his prize- a one-meter cube of pure gold, one that he’d wrested from HYDRA many decades ago in his exploits as a Nazi-hunter. He had preserved it intact all these years, waiting for a cause worthy of that sort of investment. 

 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got more than adequate funds. In the meantime, I want you to tell me everything about what happened.” He figured it would do her good to vent a little and the information could be valuable. He had no doubt whatsoever that Xavier’s underlings would try to oppose him. Erik had to admit that was difficult for him to consider, doubly so when he knew very well that Wanda may be among them.  _ I will have to instruct Cassidy and Marko not to harm her under any circumstances. The others will have to make their choices as they may.  _


	17. Longshot II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longshot adjusts to life inside the Xavier Institute. Also Jean clearly wants to be a teacher when she grows up.

The Xavier Institute was a lot to get used to. For one, there were no dogs that would hunt you and gnash at you with their teeth. There were also none of the giant wasps that could kill you with a single sting. He hadn’t heard the sadistic voice in the sky of Arcade and he’d been assured that Mojo and the Sugar Man, if indeed, the latter was still alive- he’d been thrown some kilometers by the pretty girl with the stripe in her hair, were more than half a world away. 

 

Longshot was really hesitant to say that he was  _ safe,  _ but he certainly felt safer. The food was a lot better too. He’d still been hungry at dinnertime and they’d just given him seconds- apparently nobody ever went hungry here. He’d asked for Coca-Cola and he’d been given a can of the stuff, cold and sugary and fizzy, just like he imagined it’d be in America. People didn’t seem to be playing baseball at the moment, though Longshot supposed it was a little cold for that outside. Indeed, he wasn’t at all used to that feeling. Cold. Every once in awhile, Arcade would change the weather to throw him off, but most of the time, he’d become used to the tropical heat of Genosha. 

 

The people at the Institute had asked him a lot of questions, to which, honestly, he didn’t really have the answers. Longshot had no idea how long he’d been in Murderworld and only an approximate idea of how old he was- Rita had said he looked about eighteen or nineteen, so he’d told them that. He didn’t have any memories of his life before Murderworld whatsoever and even Professor Xavier, the kind bald man who owned the Institute but didn’t own the people who lived there couldn’t find any of those memories inside his head. He was basically a blank slate. 

 

Trying to think of answers to questions was exhausting, but the truth was that Longshot himself had a lot of questions. He knew how to fight and how to run, how to find whatever small scrap of food he could to keep going, how to bind up wounds, but there were a lot of things he didn’t know. Longshot had to be shown how to use a bathtub and a shower, which had probably bemused Professor Xavier’s son, the young man about his age with the red glasses. There weren’t baths or showers in Murderworld. He was either dirty or he’d just emerged into it and was very clean indeed. 

 

Longshot had learned pretty early who the better people were to ask questions to- Doctor McCoy, Kurt and the Professor were all very patient people, Betsy significantly less so. Bobby seemed particularly amused that Longshot had never played a video game before but it turned out that Longshot was sometimes lucky with video games too, because he’d beat Bobby at the cartoon racing game. He didn’t like to play the killing games, because it reminded him of Murderworld. 

 

Scott was nice, but seemed to always be busy. Piotr struck him as a little shy. Logan was really grumpy. Wanda was moody- but almost always happier around Kurt. He didn’t think Ororo was very happy at the Institute, which baffled him, because no one was trying to kill them and they had as much food as they wanted and they could even travel if they wanted to. It seemed pretty great to him. Jean was very patient with him and very kind, Kitty was nice, but tended to be busy.

 

Longshot had been given some tests to determine how good he was at things like reading and writing and math- he’d done sort of okay at the reading and they’d given him some bright and colourful books to practice with. He didn’t mind them, they had nice pictures and looked a lot more fun than the thick adult-type books he sometimes saw other people read. He was told that he was going to be put into an individual mentorship program with Jean, which he was okay with, because she was very kind and very pretty. Apparently she wanted to learn how to teach, which sounded funny to Longshot, because she seemed very good at it already. 

 

“What does don-a-tion mean?” Longshot asked her as they looked over one of his books. Apparently people made ‘donations’ to a thing called ‘charity’ and it made them feel good and it helped people, which sounded like a good thing. There was a picture of a boy and a girl giving a basket full of tasty-looking vegetables and things to someone. “Is it like a gift? It looks like Jenny and Carlos are giving the man in the old coat a present.” 

 

“It is.” Jean smiled. “Charities are groups of people who try to help other people.” 

 

“Is the Xavier Institute a charity?” Longshot asked. After all, they were helping him and they hadn’t expected anything from him except that he try to answer some questions and take some tests. They’d fed him three times a day and if he was hungry between meal times, he could have a snack, just not anything that was labelled with someone’s name. And he could take a nice hot shower now that he knew how to use it. He slept in a cozy warm bed with big fluffy pillows and huge blankets. They’d given him some perfectly nice clothes- he was fairly sure they came from Scott. They were a little big for him, but they said they’d buy him new clothes soon. 

 

Jean laughed softly. “I guess in some ways we are. We try to help mutants however we can. I mean, Professor Xavier does.” 

 

“You’re helping me right now.” Longshot pointed out. “I don’t read very well and you’re helping me to read better. And I don’t have any money or anything. So if a charity is a group of people who help other people, then the Xavier Institute is a charity and you’re part of it.” 

 

“Who am I to argue with logic like that?” Jean replied with another soft chuckle. 

 

“You’re Jean Grey.” Longshot answered quickly, just in case she forgot her name like sometimes he did. He remembered he woke up a lot of times and couldn’t remember who he was right away. Usually about twenty minutes and a little food helped bring back the memory. Or he’d be told by Arcade. Maybe people forgot their names all the time. 

 

“I … I am.” She started laughing again. “Maybe after we get through this book, we can start teaching you all the weird and wonderful mysteries of the English language.” 

 

“Why would I learn about the English language? This is America, not England.” He remembered a little about England, because England had fought with America in the big war that happened in Genosha, and because Rita had once gone there. Longshot missed Rita a lot. He liked the people here a lot and he especially liked Jean Grey, but he didn’t feel about her the same way that he felt about Rita. Besides, she loved Scott Summers and he loved her too and she made him smile, which he didn’t do a lot when she wasn’t around. 

 

“Most Americans speak English, because a very long time ago, England ruled America. But there was a war and America became its own country, but the people still spoke English.” That confused Longshot, because he was pretty sure that Rita had said that England and America were friends and if they fought a war against each other, did that mean they stopped hating each other? If so, Longshot was happy for England and America. But there was something else confusing about that.

 

“I was watching the television and there was a man with a funny voice saying that people in America should speak American. His voice sounded a little funny, though.” Longshot was beginning to realize that the world was a really complicated place and that things were usually not very easy. That man hadn’t sounded very nice, though. He’d sounded very angry and looked like maybe he was hot or something, because he was all red.

 

“He was probably a Republican.” Jean Grey rolled her eyes and Longshot could tell that whatever Republicans were, Jean didn’t like them very much. “People come to America from all over the world and speak all kinds of different languages. Some people resent that. A lot of people don’t like people who are different.” 

 

“Like mutants?” He’d seen a lot of stuff on the news about how people didn’t seem to like mutants and when he heard the news, the mutants sounded pretty awful, but everyone at the Xavier Institute was a mutant and they were all pretty nice. “Why don’t people like mutants?” It made Longshot sad because he was a mutant too, actually. It seemed awfully mean not to like mutants because they could so some things other people couldn’t. He didn’t hate Kitty because she could do math and he couldn’t. 

 

“People are scared of us, Longshot.” Jean replied and Longshot wanted to hug her because she sounded so sad in that moment. “A lot of mutants do have abilities that are dangerous. Which is one of the reasons that this school exists, to teach people how to control and use their abilities safely and for the better of society. But when people fear for long enough, they start to hate too. And hate leads to violence and violence leads to more violence.” 

 

Longshot knew all about that- Mojo hated everything and everyone he was pretty sure and all he ever thought about was how to sell violence and hate and fear to people, while someone like the Sugar Man or Arcade seemed to just enjoy hurting people. Longshot didn’t enjoy that at all. He’d had to do it before, but he didn’t even like killing the fake people that Arcade threw at him in Murderworld. 

 

“Maybe if people got to know some of the people here better they wouldn’t hate or fear them so much. I don’t think anyone could fear you. I mean, you’re sitting here and helping me to read better instead of kissing Scott or something you’d probably  _ like  _ to do.” Because that’s what people that loved each other did. They kissed each other and maybe other things too, but Rita had only hinted at those things. 

 

“Don’t worry about Mr. Summers, Longshot. He’ll be fine without me for a short while. Besides, I like this. You make good company.” Jean smiled at him. “You’re a quick learner, you know. And good at talking too, because you’ve had us distracted for quite awhile. Let’s go back to the book.” Longshot was a little sad about that because he’d liked just chatting, but they were there for a reason and he did want to find out what Jenny and Carlos did next. There were a lot of books about things they did and each of them was marked with a big letter, that went from A for the easiest-to-read one to the one that was Z, for the hardest-to-read one. 

 

The book he had was an O, which was a little past the middle and apparently lined up with something called Grade 3 which was apparently what kids did after they were in school for four years- there wasn’t a Grade 0, though, there was a place called Kindergarten instead. Kindergarten sounded fun, though, all kids did was play and hang out with each other. Though children that age were very small and Longshot knew he’d have to be very careful because young children were fragile. 

 

It didn’t take too long for them to finish the book- it was pretty short and then Jean asked him a few questions about the book and wrote down some notes on a notepad while he answered them as best he could. Overall, Longshot liked the book, he thought it was nice because it was about the value of giving to others who needed help. That was something that Longshot wanted to do, especially now that maybe he’d have some things to actually give people. 

 

There was something that was bugging him, however, something that he was a little afraid to ask but had to know. 

 

“Jean, am I going to be able to stay here?” Longshot didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he was a little frightened that they were going to kick him out at some point. He’d never known a place where he could be comfortable and well-fed, were people were mostly very kind to him. He’d always been good looking on the bright side of things, but how that he’d had a little experience of what life could be like, he realized just how horrible things had been in Murderworld. 

 

Jean placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes and suddenly, Longshot understood, maybe just a little bit, that people could be scared of her even though she was very kind. There was a really intense look in her eyes. “You’ll have a place here as long as you want to be with us. We’re not going to kick you out, I promise you. Those bastards will never touch you again. If they even try, they will regret it.” 

 

Longshot believed her. She sounded sincere as  _ heck.  _ “Maybe when I’ve got used to things I can help people here at the Xavier Institute. I hear you guys do a lot of training to help fight for other people, maybe I could do some of that.” Longshot had complex feelings about fighting. He didn’t like hurting people, really, but he was really good at fighting and staying alive and if he could use those skills for something better than staying alive, he would be very happy to do so. 

 

“I’m sure Scott would be happy to hear that.” Jean replied and she kind of sounded like she didn’t want to talk about that much more. She sighed slightly. “I get it. I get why we sometimes need to fight for a good cause. And the thing is, I’m not bad at it. I’ve got very powerful and useful mutant abilities. But it’s not something I’m … it’s something I can do sometimes because I’m needed. But this is what I believe in. I believe in education. I believe in building people’s skills but also building  _ people.”  _

 

“You don’t build people.” Longshot replied, a little confused. “A man and a woman love each other very much-”

 

“Helping people to be the best people they can be.” Jean amended, which sounded like a much better way of saying it. Longshot was a little surprised that someone as smart as Jean didn’t figure that out immediately. 

 

“Also, sometimes bad people make people in laboratories like on Murderworld. But Rita told me how people made other people normally. She said that, maybe one day, when we were free, a long time from … then, maybe we’d have a family. If things worked out.” Longshot shifted his foot a little awkwardly. 

 

“... who’s Rita?” Jean asked and all the fierceness she’d exhibited earlier was gone and something about her voice made Longshot want to hug her and make water with his eyes-  _ cry,  _ but he held off on that because he was fairly sure people didn’t do that with people they didn’t know well. 

 

“Rita was a stunt woman from America.” Longshot looked at Jean. “She was pretty and nice and sometimes I saved her from things and once in awhile, she’d save me from things. We kissed and stuff sometimes and we’d talk about running away to America together and playing baseball and drinking Coca-Cola and being together. But they did something to her and made her evil and have six arms and be able to disappear and reappear places. She’s Spiral now.” 

 

Longshot was relieved when Jean hugged him first. He hugged her back, careful not to squeeze too hard. 

 

“Maybe one day we’ll find her too, Longshot.” Jean said and maybe she was just trying to make him feel better, but Longshot would take what he could get. 


	18. Pietro V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Tom Cassidy and the Juggernaut are at the BroHo House plotting with Raven. 
> 
> Pietro isn't sure how he feels about this. 
> 
> Rogue is considerably surer.

Cain Marko looked like the Platonic ideal of a thug, a ridiculous mountain of a man built out of rock-hard muscle with an eternal chip on his shoulder. Pietro had heard of the guy in the past, vaguely- it was one of those topics that Charles and his father had always discussed in a quieted voice. Apparently the two were brothers or something, though Pietro for the life of him couldn’t imagine the huge, slightly dim-seeming lug in front of him being related to Charles Xavier. It would be far too perfect a dichotomy of brains versus brawn to actually exist in reality. 

 

“I’m all up for going and knocking little Charlie around a bit or whatever your boyfriend wants, but there’s one problem. He can get inside your mind. You figure out some way to deal with that- we’ll talk.” Cain pronounced, actually talking with his mouth full of mashed potatoes like some kind of disgusting barbarian. Pietro was hoping the guy was as tough as he looked, because he certainly didn’t make for good company. 

 

Pietro knew he was a compulsive asshole, but at least he didn’t talk with his fucking mouth full of food. 

 

The man who was next to Cain Marko, on the other hand- he was actually pretty good looking, also quite fit but in a lean way that Pietro much preferred. He wore a long black trenchcoat that was currently open. The immaculately white wifebeater he had underneath it didn’t do much to hide his physique, or the elaborate Celtic tattoos that presumably covered the better part of his torso. Cain Marko was a dim-witted bully by all appearances, but Black Tom Cassidy looked intelligent and frankly, sexy. 

 

“Cain, darling, you shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Tom chastised Cain gently and a little amazingly, Cain seemed to take it in stride and actually focused on eating. “Who’s the cook, by the way? This is fucking brilliant. We might have to come here every night for breakfast, dinner, high fucking tea and supper.” Fred couldn’t help but smile at the recognition. “I mean it, boyo. If you can make a decent fry up, I’m moving in.” 

 

His eyes settled back onto Raven. “Cain makes a good point, though. Charles is an entitled, manipulative little cunt who deserves everything he gets, believe you me. But his telepathy? That’s a problem. I’ve no fear of fists or knives or bullets, really. You know me, Raven. I’ve been around all sorts of shit. But Cain and I both, we don’t like people fucking with our minds. I’d prefer the little blue piggies didn’t get all my secrets passed around.” 

 

Pietro tried to focus on his meal, but it was increasingly sitting uncomfortably in his stomach, because as much as he had been annoyed at, even angry with Charles Xavier, he didn’t want these men to hurt him. The more he listened to Black Tom speak, as opposed to simply looking at him, the more he became convinced that he was the worse of the two. The others didn’t have a lot of investment in Charles Xavier, one way or the other. He looked towards Rogue for a moment, who seemed to be trying very hard to disguise increasing anger. 

 

Raven seemed to pick up on a little bit of that. “Maybe, gentlemen, we could discuss business after dinner? Fred’s got a pecan pie and there’s coffee and tea on. We can discuss details privately.” She cast her eyes over at Rogue, who looked like she wanted to throw a piece of fried chicken right in Fred or Tom’s face. Pietro couldn’t stand for that, though, it was perfectly good fried chicken. Wasting good food like that would be a real shame.

 

Personally, Pietro was grateful enough for the reprieve from business. He was able to quickly snatch another piece of the fried chicken before anyone noticed- the third last by his count, which meant that technically he wasn’t being rude to the guests. Marko took one of the other remaining pieces, which left a single piece sitting there, steam gently rising from it, crispy on the outside, tender and juicy on the inside. Pietro wanted that last piece of chicken, but Black Tom beat him to the punch, his eyes briefly glancing over smugly at Pietro as he bit into it. 

 

Pietro decided right then and there that, as sexy as Black Tom looked, that he hated the man.  _ That chicken was for me, for me and me alone and you had no right to touch it.  _ Hope returned, though, as Fred ambled off towards the kitchen and came back with a tray with two large pecan pies. With a little look from Raven, Tabby far more reluctantly went to get tea and coffee. It was very important that they had both on hand- most of the people in the house were coffee people, but Rogue and Mortimer both gulped down tea like it was a necessity of life. Cain took coffee and Tom took tea, as Pietro expected- that was a pretty thick Irish accent the man had. 

 

As soon as Rogue got her slice of pie and her cup of tea, she immediately stormed off to her room, without so much as an ‘excuse me’. Pietro was nearly proud, really, that was some impressive rudeness. Raven’s face briefly twitched, but she soon returned to playing the part of the hostess, making relatively light conversation. Cain quickly devoured his pie and coffee and was rewarded with a second slice- which annoyed Pietro, because why should a thug like him get extra pie? But it wasn’t his decision to make. The dinner, the dessert, they were all part of Raven’s little show of diplomacy. Soon enough, he knew, they’d be dismissed to their rooms and Raven would probably take them downstairs to really discuss business. 

 

Pietro didn’t know what to think of it all, or rather, he knew what to think, but he had no idea what to actually _do_ about it. _Charles is a good man, even if he’s wrong about things. I thought Dad cared about him too._ He had the feeling that, whatever Cain Marko actually said, that the moment he got around Charles Xavier, he was going to do his best to hurt or maybe even kill the man. _I wonder what Raven thinks about that? I mean, Xavier’s people put themselves out on a limb not too long ago for her. Her fucking kid goes to the school. My sister goes to the school. Are they going to, what, trash the Institute?_

 

Pietro glanced up for a moment towards where Rogue had left and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. He’d talked a little to her once and by all accounts, she’d had a fairly good impression of the people at the Xavier Institute. She’d certainly been grateful to them for helping with rescuing her ‘Momma’ as she called Raven in that silly little Southern accent she had, even if as Pietro had heard it, Raven had mostly rescued herself. Honestly, it sounded like a pretty badass rescue. 

 

Soon enough, however, his attention returned to the pecan pie, which was absolutely fucking delicious, though for his money, he slightly preferred a peach or blackberry cobbler, which could maybe offer a little tartness to offset the incredible sweetness. Pecan pies were basically nuts suspended in liquid sugar, which was awesome, to be sure, but the other thing about a cobbler is that usually one put ice cream on them. Pietro was always down with anything he could put ice cream on. 

 

It didn’t take long for the kids to scarf down dessert and gulp down at least one cup of their preferred hot beverage and be gently but insistently dismissed to their rooms. Pietro took the hint and started walking upstairs. Maybe he could go hang out with John and Dom, play some video games. He wasn’t generally much into the weed that usually came out not too long into a hangout, but he’d partaken once or twice in the time that he was here.  _ A drink wouldn’t be amiss, either.  _

 

John Allerdyce and Dominic Petros were, in many ways, seeming opposites to each other. John was prickly and temperamental, almost as practiced a master of the arts of jackassdom as Pietro himself was, lanky to the point of skinniness with virtually colourless skin and a shock of pale blond hair. Dom was a touch under average height, a bit on the stocky side, generally olive in complexion, with dark hair and eyes. Dom was, on the surface at least, a much nicer guy than John was, which meant to Pietro that he was maybe a touch boring. 

 

Pietro wandered into John’s room- the door was open and Dom was setting up the console while John lovingly prepared a large, elaborately-decorated bong. Pietro came in without announcing himself and sat down on the bed. He watched John work- while he was pretty sure that Dom would smoke whatever was presented to him when the mood struck him, John clearly  _ cared  _ about weed, the quality of it, how it was prepared, the snacks to accompany it. There were already chips and dip out, despite the fact they’d just eaten a huge fucking meal. 

 

“So … what do you guys think about all this?” Pietro asked diplomatically as Dominic passed him a flask. Pietro took a swallow of it and almost instantly regretted it- it was some truly awful cheap vodka. Dom laughed as he sputtered slightly on it. John didn’t drink at all- he said that alcohol didn’t agree with him. Pietro had wondered about that, but he didn’t want to press too much, it seemed sensitive to John. Dom on the other hand, had a million and a half stories about his alcoholic father, who he actually kept in sporadic contact with. 

 

“Revolution’s hard.” John replied as he lit the bong and took a hit off of it, before passing it on to Pietro, who decided that, tonight, he was kind of in the mood to get high- though when he inhaled the smoke in, he started coughing, which prompted laughter from both John and Dom. “From what you’ve said, I dunno, Xavier sounds like an alright guy, but look, this is war and he’s on the wrong  _ side.  _ And look, Raven’s not going to send someone to kill him. We aren’t at that stage yet.” 

 

It was Dom’s turn next and once he’d taken his hit he paused for a moment. “I can’t say that I  _ like  _ this, but what can we do? Raven and Erik have the situation in hand. But for my money, I’d rather be spending my time finding out ways to fuck up some Purifiers.” He took a swig out of his flask. “But I’m with John. Raven’s not going to do anything crazy or stupid. It’s not really our call, anyway. No point worrying about it too much.” 

 

“Dom, you don’t fucking worry about anything.” John countered and Pietro couldn’t help but smile in agreement- Dom was exceedingly chill, too chill for Pietro’s perfect liking, even though he had utterly no reason to dislike the guy. “The world is turning into a really fucking terrifying place and you’re like- just chill. I’ve known you for years now and I’ve basically never seen you pissed off.” 

 

“Don’t have to be. You’re angry enough for both of us.” Dom grinned and took another swallow from his flask. “And Pietro, you’re nearly as fucking bad. Though Pietro kicks your ass at Team Fortress 2.” Pietro had to award that point to Dom, because he was right. Pietro was a lot better than John at pretty much any video game and could give Dom a run for his money. It was only natural that he could, of course, he’d learned from the best. One didn’t play Bobby Drake and not hone one’s skills. That kid basically lived and breathed video games. 

 

“You’d be angry too if you had to deal with all the same shit as I did and still do.” Pietro retorted as Dom handed him a controller. “But that’s okay, you know what, I’m not mad right now. I’m going to kick your ass.” Dom tossed another controller over at John as John took another hit and passed the bong over to Pietro. Already starting to feel it a bit, Pietro decided he might as well go for it again. This time he didn’t cough remotely so much. 

 

“You’re getting a little better at that.” John commented as Dom passed the bong back over to John. “Would’ve thought you’d have more experience. Wasn’t your sister kind of a stoner?” 

 

Pietro didn’t like it when people brought up Wanda all that much, because all the feelings there were still pretty raw and also because like every brother in the world, he was protective of her, even if they weren’t talking. He knew damn well that weed was actually medicinal for her, that it calmed the swirling chaos in her head enough to let her function when things were bad. It was so self-evident that people as square as Scott never thought to disapprove. He knew that Charles at least tacitly tolerated it as long as certain rules were followed and that as soon as he could, he was going to try and get her an actual license. 

 

“Fuck you.” Pietro said, aiming for that perfect balance between hostility and dismissiveness. To their credit, neither John or Dom said anything about it thereafter and Pietro could settle down to murdering them via the wonders of online gaming. It wasn’t too hard to hunt John down and kill him, but Dom was always a bigger problem. One of the things about Dom was that, even though his chillness could sometimes grate on Pietro, the man had a pretty flawless poker face and a real penchant for sniping. 

 

It didn’t take too long before Dom demonstrated that lethal gift by exploding both Pietro and John’s heads, twice in a row just as the two of them found each other. 

 

“Jesus fuck, Dom, are you  _ sure  _ you’re not some special ops soldier? Because that was fucking cold, dude.” John shook his head. “Ice cold.” 

 

“What can I say? I’ve got a gift.” Dom grinned as he set down the controller for a moment to fish out a handful of chips. Despite the huge meal they’d had not too long ago, Pietro was feeling a bit hungry himself and got himself some chips, opening the dip so he could enjoy them properly. 

 

It was on another round of Pietro and John trying to kill each other and get some points before Dom killed them from out of literally nowhere that they heard it- a huge  _ boom  _ that literally rattled the windows of the house. John and Dom immediately jolted with a start, possibly thinking there was an explosion or something. Pietro was startled by it too, but he also recognized the sound immediately.  _ Sonic boom. Wouldn’t be fighter jets, not in the middle of fucking NYC.  _

Disregarding John and Dom, he immediately dashed up to the attic, opening the door and rushing up the last set of stairs to find, as he suspected, there was an open window and no Rogue anywhere to be seen. There was a note neatly laid on the bed. Just as Pietro was debating what to do with it, Raven raced into the room herself and picked it up. She took a heavy breath and swore under her breath. 

 

“I should’ve known.” Raven finally said. “Rogue doesn’t understand.” 

 

Pietro was inclined to be sympathetic, but he also figured that Rogue understood perfectly well. He also figured, that, in pretty short order, the people at the Xavier Institute were going to get advance warning that something was coming. 

 

“Yeah, this isn’t good at all.” Pietro agreed quietly, secretly kind of glad that Rogue had the courage to go. “You gonna call whatever it is off?” 

 

Raven shook her head. “Can’t.” 

 

Pietro took a breath. “Well, fuck.” 


	19. Robert III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Kelly continues to be the world's biggest sucker. 
> 
> Also, the Sentinels are just about ready for prime-time.

“Robert! Good to see you again. Hopefully nothing too dramatic happens this time, eh?” Sebastian exclaimed loudly as he caught Robert into a brotherly hug. After a brief moment, he held Robert at arm’s length. “We’re ready for you to come see them. The Sentinels. We’ve had some tests, both automated and live and manufactured several prototypes for you to view.” Sebastian looked legitimately excited by it, his dark eyes practically sparkling. 

 

Robert couldn’t blame him one bit- the Sentinel project, Operation Wideawake had been a huge part of both their lives for the last several months and now, with the Mutant Registration Act going up for another exhausting round of debate and amendment, it would be good to see some tangible progress on another front. He couldn’t fault Sebastian for being exuberant about it. Robert was excited about it as well. He wished, offhandedly, that Tessa could have been there too, but she had taken a brief leave for personal reasons. 

 

“Well, what are we waiting for, Sebastian? Let’s go.” Robert grinned as he finally pulled away entirely from Sebastian. “I want to see them, at long last.” Robert and Sebastian walked together to Shaw’s limousine. The driver came around to open the door and Robert was ushered in, only to find two other people in the vehicle. He recognized both of them quickly- one was Emma Frost, the owner of Frost Media and Warren Worthington III, the son of one of Robert’s biggest financial backers and a man who had pushed mutant registration heavily. 

 

In fact, Robert remembered that Warren himself was a mutant. He must have looked somewhat quizzically at his company in the vehicle, because Sebastian laughed and Warren smiled a little nervously. 

 

“Just because I may be a mutant, Senator, doesn’t mean that I think mutant registration is a bad idea. Quite the contrary. I think the Mutant Registration Act exists for the safety of all Americans, mutated or not.” Warren spoke crisply. He sounded a little reluctant to Robert, but that may have been simply nerves. “As you know, my father is a great friend to this worthy and, frankly, essential cause. He couldn’t be here, so he sent me as his representative.” 

 

“Of course.” Robert agreed, trying not to sound hesitant or tentative himself. “You’re absolutely right and so is your father. The Mutant Registration Act is not intended to be malicious in any way. It is intended only to improve the security of America and the safety of its citizens.” 

 

“Don’t you think that’s an important message for people to hear, Senator?” Emma Frost chimed in, her blonde perfection pretty much the feminine mirror of Warren’s all-American good looks. Robert wondered if they were a couple. They weren’t obviously so, but he wouldn’t be surprised either. In his experience, perfectly good-looking people tended to find each other. “A well-known mutant who is willing to come out publicly and endorse the Mutant Registration Act. Charles Xavier and all the other misguided souls in opposition to this law will have a difficult time countering that. Why, Warren, you even attended that school for a time.” 

 

“I did.” Warren replied. “I don’t want to turn this into a criticism of Charles Xavier- he’s done a lot of good work. And there are some caveats I have about the specific implementation of the Mutant Registration Act that I will be addressing, particularly related to who gets to see the database. However, I don’t think we have any better alternatives. The emergence of superpowered mutants is an extraordinary event- and I think all things considered, the MRA is a reasonable response to that.” 

 

“I thank you for your support, Warren.” Robert nodded. “I’d be happy to look at the provisions of the Act in greater detail with you sometime soon.” He was particularly curious to see what Warren was objecting to, potentially, with the Act. There was a possibility that he could simply convince Warren of the necessity of the various provisions or that a largely cosmetic amendment could be made. 

 

“Of course.” Sebastian cut in. “We must all make sure that we’re on the same page. Besides, if we weren’t, you know damn sure that Tessa would be after us. The ultimate committee woman.” Robert couldn’t help but laugh at that, because it was true. He’d seen the woman at work, how effortlessly she charmed some people, persuaded others and even made artfully veiled threats. To tell the truth, she’d done as much hard work selling the Mutant Registration Act to hesitant peers in Congress as he had. 

 

Most significantly, Robert knew for a fact that Tessa had earned the respect and the trust of the President- Robert didn’t think for a moment that the President would be supporting the Mutant Registration Act at all if it weren’t for her intercession. It was true that the President still expected some fairly significant amendments of the Mutant Registration Act, ones that Robert wasn’t terribly desirous of granting, but all the same, they’d made huge progress. Even Sebastian had admitted that Tessa had earned the President’s respect more quickly and thoroughly than he had- probably because the President was a logical, fairly intellectual man who appreciated people of a similar bent. 

 

“Of course, it’s a shame she couldn’t make it.” Emma replied with a tight little smile that suggested vaguely to Robert that Emma wasn’t terribly fond of Tessa- for what reason he could scarcely comprehend. Surely Emma had no particular reason to be jealous of Tessa, she was beautiful as well and a billionaire owner of a vast and powerful media company. Either way, however, Robert wasn’t going to say anything about it, though he quietly filed it away in his head for later. 

 

The rest of the ride to the Sentinel manufacturing site was uneventful enough, primarily marked by a brief conference call that Warren took inside the vehicle with his father, who gave his regards to the occupants of the vehicle. Warren Worthington, Jr. was one of Kelly’s largest backers, right up there with Sebastian Shaw and the Frosts and Kelly listened carefully to the man expound his vision for mutant registration. He had a faint perception that Warren Worthington Jr. had a slightly different view of the MRA than his son.  _ Intriguing. Ultimately, however, the father is the more important figure here, even if the press from the son would be a useful thing.  _

 

When they arrived, they breezed past what was very considerable security- Kelly thought that he saw a total of somewhere around fifty guards, openly carrying automatic weapons. He knew that Shaw did not skimp on security and that the automated systems would be on high alert as well. Robert, of course, didn’t fault Sebastian on that, the fact was that the Sentinels were worth billions of dollars and had huge potential power. If anything happened to them, it would be a legitimate national crisis. 

 

They were ushered through long corridors with even more guards. Robert had little doubt that the main reason that they were passing through the security so quickly was that Sebastian Shaw himself was with them, otherwise it would have been a much slower process, he was certain. 

 

“You right a tight ship, Sebastian. If you weren’t here, imagine how long this would take.” Robert whistled, impressed. “We’ve gone through an awful lot of doors.” 

 

“They aren’t taking me for granted, either. Our DNA has been scanned at every stop along the way.” Sebastian replied. “Even if someone were to use some manner of hologram or even if someone had shapeshifting powers, they’d still fail. It’s also trained to pick up obvious mental manipulations. Even if I was somehow telepathically controlled by an outside force, it would detect that and not allow access.” 

 

“That’s how much Sebastian values the security and safety of this project, Senator. Sebastian is willing to invest millions in keeping it safe from even the most outlandish of all scenarios.” Emma Frost smiled slightly. “Can you really imagine it? Someone telepathically controlling Sebastian like that?”

 

“Honestly, Miss Frost, I can’t imagine anyone controlling Sebastian Shaw to do anything.” Robert replied with a small laugh that he, Warren and Sebastian all shared. It was true, though, he didn’t care how powerful telepaths were- he couldn’t imagine anyone surpassing Sebastian’s sheer willpower. He was pretty sure he had never met someone was self-possessed as Sebastian Shaw in his entire life. Surely no other man could start out from basically nothing and create a nearly $50 billion dollar fortune. 

 

They went through a final, enormous set of doors that when opened, were revealed to be a full-foot thick. 

 

“Vibranium-reinforced steel.” Sebastian noted, without prompting. 

 

“... so not only is it incredibly tough, but it actually absorbs kinetic impact. Which means that that the strength of that door scales according to how much force is directed against it.” Warren whistled. “That’s impressive. And expensive. Not that I was doubting your security at any point before, but that’s a hell of a thing, Sebastian.” 

 

“In practice, it means that you’d need someone with Hulk-level strength to open that door forcibly.” Sebastian replied. “I don’t care for anyone interfering with our work here, no matter how powerful they are. I’ve taken care, also, that the doors be demagnetized. I heard of the unfortunate incident that happened with Tony Stark at his facility. Another reason to take security very seriously- both of this facility and regarding mutants in general. 

 

I’ve nothing particularly against mutants, but I think we can all agree that they’re too dangerous to simply be allowed to run amok.” If Sebastian was secretly happy about what had happened to Tony Stark, his biggest business rival and only global superior in heavy industry and technological innovation, he was graceful about not showing it outright. Robert Kelly had never much liked Tony Stark and the truth was that Stark had usually backed his political rivals- but the incident did underline the vital importance of what they were doing here. 

 

They walked into a colossal room where they stood and immediately, Robert’s breath was taken away at the sight of them. There appeared to be two types of Sentinels. The smaller and more numerous of them were a little larger than people, about seven feet tall. He had read the briefing and he knew that they were capable of disguising themselves as people and going about their regular business. Each Sentinel was capable of lifting and manipulating over ten tons of weight, was equipped with rocket engines that allowed them to fly quickly and at great height and were equipped with a powerful energy weapon of Shaw Industries design- a Variable Energy Projector with several modes, capable of stunning physically ordinary humans or killing powerful mutants. 

 

They were impressive machines and Kelly had no reason to doubt that they were powerful and efficient machines for the enforcement of the Mutant Registration Act, but it was the big ones that virtually took his breath away. The larger Sentinels were as tall as a six-story building, equipped with facilities for command and control of the smaller Sentinels, with more powerful weapons, with the capability to operate autonomously for long periods of time if needed. The flight of the smaller Sentinels could take them over a thousand kilometers. The larger ones could fly around the world one and a half times before they needed to be recharged. 

 

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” Sebastian, normally a great and terrible man, looked strangely insignificant in the midst of his enormous creations. “Once they’re deployed and in use, no superhuman, of whatever sort, will be in a position to violate the laws or the safety of Americans ever again. Not only that, Senator Kelly, but these Sentinels will markedly and in very real terms increase the military capacity of the American nation.” 

 

“How many of them do you intend on building?” Warren looked around at them, clearly awed by the sheer scale of the Sentinels. Robert couldn’t blame him, even though he knew they were nothing but enforcers of the law that was so desperately needed by America, they were nonetheless terrifying. A single one of the smaller Sentinels probably had more firepower than half the American army did when he was a boy, and one of the larger ones could probably have won World War II by itself. 

 

“The plan, currently, is to build one of the smaller Sentinels for every million Americans- a total of 300 of them, to be stationed across an area roughly equivalent to where one million Americans live.” Senator Kelly could already see how that would work- large areas of the largely empty interior would have a Sentinel nowhere in immediate sight, but America’s great cities would have several of them. “Every ten of the Mark I Sentinels will be controlled by a Mark II Sentinel- the large ones you see here. If it is decided that more are needed? Well, I will build more of them. If I am authorized to sell to any of our allies, I will do so on similar grounds of density. However, as you can imagine, we’d be very, very choosy about who we sold to.” 

 

Senator Kelly nodded. “The idea has been broached, but we’d almost assuredly only sell on a case by case basis to nations we trust particularly strongly. The Canadians, the British, the Australians, the Israelis. We’d have to be very careful such a thing.” 

 

“We’ve already began to produce advertisements for the Sentinels, along with a full-length documentary. As you can imagine, by appearance alone, they’re rather intimidating, which is good for deterrence, of course, but we must be careful that the American public does not develop an aversion towards them.” Emma looked towards all of them. “The Sentinels exist to promote the safety of Americans and it is important that they realize that.” 

 

“They will.” Sebastian replied with a faint laugh. “We’ll have little trouble selling them on it- some mutant or another, no offense meant to present company, is guaranteed to do something treasonous or terroristic. This is not a matter of any special tendency towards evil in mutants- we have never argued that, have we? It’s simply natural, if unfortunate, that some people will use their gifts for ill. And when that happens, for it will be a when, not an if, we must be ready for it. The Sentinels will be ready and so will we. They can win the battles to come on the ground, it is left for us to have the much more unpleasant work of winning the political struggle in Washington.” 

 

“I don’t think we’ll have much trouble with that, Sebastian. I’ve already began talking to several people who owe me several favors. They’ll come onside with Operation Wideawake and the Mutant Registration Act if they haven’t already.” Emma added determinedly. “And America will be safer and perhaps, Robert, you’ll see yourself as the next President of the United States.” She smiled at him. “Just imagine what we can all accomplish then.” 

 

“Anything we dare dream.” Sebastian insisted. “Anything at all. Make no mistake, we are looking at the future. Our future. America’s future. The world’s future. Safety, security and peace, not for our time, but for  _ all  _ time.” 

 

Looking at the massive forms of the Sentinels, Robert could just about believe that lofty sentiment. 


	20. Irene II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene Adler receives a mysterious visitor. 
> 
> The mystery thickens greatly.

Irene checked her watch and went to the door, knowing that the guest would arrive at precisely 8:00 pm- she would expect no less of what was probably the most punctual woman in the entire planet. She would bring a bottle of very excellent red wine and Irene had seen fit to buy some fresh grapes and a selection of cheeses and crackers to go with it.  _ The poor dear didn’t have to spend remotely so much on it either to impress me, but she’s also got quite a taste for luxury. I’m not going to complain, though.  _

 

Irene opened the door just as the other woman was going to knock, something which Irene noted to her small amusement seemed to genuinely surprise the other woman a little bit. Irene smiled faintly at that. She imagined that the young woman standing at the door wasn’t surprised often. While not a clairvoyant, Irene knew she had an uncanny knack for seeing things early. 

 

“I’ve been expecting you. You’ll forgive me, but my visions don’t usually give names.” Irene’s own eyes had been gone for a long time, but her visions had shown the woman to her- young, in her early twenties and immaculately and almost painfully beautiful, porcelain skin, raven-black hair, penetrating blue eyes and red, red lips. It made Irene wish she was a younger woman, but she knew the woman was here on business of a sort. 

 

“Tessa.” The young woman replied, in an absolutely pristine British accent that suggested that she’d lived among the elite for her entire life. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Ms. Adler.” 

 

“Oh, Irene, please. Do come in.” Irene stood aside as Tessa walked into the modest house she owned. Irene knew it must not have looked like much to a woman who had been the mistress of one of the world’s richest men for some years and who had never known anything but luxury. And smart as she was- and Irene knew she was one of the smartest people in the world, that lack of experience of life as ordinary people she lived it was a stumbling block. Irene had known all manner of fortunes in her life, rich, poor and now, as she had for some time now, somewhere in the middle. 

 

She couldn’t actually see Tessa raise her eyebrow at the tray that had been laid out, but she could imagine it easily enough. “You knew that I’d brought wine?” Tessa asked, her voice tinged with curiosity, seemingly sincerely impressed. “I didn’t know your clairvoyant abilities could be quite so specific.” 

 

The truth about Irene’s visions is that they varied enormously in how specific or general they could be- sometimes they were vague to the point of madness, other times they could be incredibly specific. She’d known that Rogue would eventually leave Raven, but she didn’t know the specific circumstances- that had just happened. At the same time, though, she’d known that Tessa would come, bearing a bottle of wine, seeking enlightenment, knowledge of the past, present and future. 

 

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, dear.” Irene replied with a faint smile. “I’m impressed that you knew what my favorite kind of wine was.” Her smile broadened a little bit. “That little bit of intelligence must have taken some digging. You didn’t have to go through nearly so much trouble, you know. Just coming and saying hello would have been enough.” Though she’d seen Tessa clearly enough through her visions, she wished that her eyes worked just now. She was old enough that her old passions had dulled, but they hadn’t died entirely. 

 

“I’m showing up at your house unannounced, even if I thought it was likely that you’d know that I was coming.” Tessa replied and her tone was gently teasing. Irene imagined that she drove the poor Senator half-mad with that tone.  _ You’ve quietly become a very powerful woman, haven’t you, dear? And yet, it’s all so fragile, isn’t it? You’re so very good at walking the wire, Tessa, but what happens if you fall? Powerful men are also dangerous men. Erik Lehnsherr. Sebastian Shaw. But you know that. You’re too smart not to know that.  _

 

_ I enjoy handsome, dangerous men. You’ve certainly had some dangerous women in your own life.  _ Tessa smiled thinly and it was Irene’s turn to be mildly surprised that her visions had left out the detail that the other woman was also a telepath. She would have to be far more guarded in her thoughts. Or not. Truthfully, Irene was too old to lie these days. If Tessa had come here seeking the truth, that was precisely what she was going to get, for better and for ill. And it would most assuredly be both. 

 

“Where are my manners, dear? Do sit down. I’m afraid it’s a small house I have, but you’ve whatever hospitality I can offer for as long as you need.” Irene looked at her. “We have a lot to talk about.” 

 

“We do.” Tessa replied. “So very much to speak about.” Tessa picked up the corkscrew that Irene had thoughtfully left on the table and opened the bottle, pouring two glasses immaculately. “Best to let it breathe for a few minutes before we drink it.” Irene wished she had eyes then to roll them, because  _ of course  _ Irene knew that. She supposed, however, that old habits died hard. Tessa had lived most of her life condescending to people less intelligent than she was. 

 

_ A little humility could go a very long way for her. But she’s young. I need to remember that. She needs to remember that. The poor girl’s only twenty-one.  _ Irene realized that she was only five years older than Rogue was- and yet she’d thrown herself into so much. Irene wondered how many people in her life actually knew how young Tessa was, if the President realized he was talking to a girl who was a literal child only four years ago.

 

On the one hand, it was an astonishing story of ascension- Tessa had the respect and the ear of some of the most powerful men in the world planet. In her own way, she was probably one of the world’s most influential women. But on the other hand, that filled Irene with an almost indescribable sadness, for the little girl who had never had a chance to be a little girl. Of a mere child having graduate-level courses foisted on her. A teenager, just slightly under the legal age of adulthood and then just over, who’d fallen into the orbit of one and then the other powerful charismatic man. Then again, perhaps they’d fallen into her orbit. 

 

Regardless, it seemed like an outrage that a girl should be denied a chance to actually  _ be  _ one. 

 

“You’re entitled to your opinions, of course, but I don’t need any sympathy. I enjoy my life, all of it, my work in Washington, my time with Sebastian. I don’t have any time for regrets which is just as well, because I don’t have any.” Irene knew that last part was a lie. Tessa had her share of regrets as did all people, but she also knew that all in all, the young woman was quite unrepentant. Irene could respect that, she remembered when she’d been a scandalous sinner, a lesbian in days when such a thing was unmentionable in polite company. 

 

“Oh dear, I’m the last person to judge you on your personal choices.” Irene smiled as she picked up the glass of wine and sipped it. It was wonderful- off-dry, fruit-forward, the way she personally liked it, but complex. It tasted of oak and leather and spice. Something about the flavour of it reminded her of Raven too. They’d drank a similar wine together- it wasn’t the first time they’d been together, but early in their relationship, perhaps when love had first started fortifying their lust. “But that being said, Sebastian Shaw- really?” 

 

Tessa actually laughed faintly as she sipped her wine. “I know that I’m not going to sell you on that. I’m far too certain of your tastes to even vaguely suppose that. But it’s through Sebastian Shaw that I’ve managed to accomplish so much. I didn’t come, however, to discuss or justify my sex life.” Tessa didn’t sound angry at all, but a little too eager to get down to business for Irene. Irene liked gossip, she got so little of it- and while her visions gave her plenty to talk about, she rarely had someone she could actually talk  _ to.  _

 

“And deprive a lonely old woman of the most interesting gossip she’s had all this time? So disappointing.” Irene smiled faintly for a moment and then her face grew more serious. “Why did you come here, Tessa?” She had theories about that, but her visions told her what would happen, or what was likely to happen- not why people do things. And if Irene had learned one thing in her life, it was that motivation mattered. The motivations of an action had immense impact on the consequences of that action, more than most people realized. 

 

“You’ll have your gossip if that’s what you want. I’m not going to force you to do anything. I’m not particularly in a position to.” Tessa admitted, in what Irene imagined was a rare moment of candor from her. Irene knew then that she’d come on her own volition, independent of Shaw or the others.  _ The pawn seeks promotion to queen? But she was doing such a fine job of that already.  _

 

A brief but significant shiver went up Irene’s spine as she considered the possibilities of marrying her precognitive and clairvoyant abilities to the immense analytical capability that Tessa had.  _ Perhaps I could learn a great deal about my own visions. I can see them, I’ve become decent at reading them, but I don’t have even a tiny iota of her ability to process and analyze information, to come to firm conclusions.  _ If their powers had been concentrated in one individual, rather than in two, they would have been something like a goddess. 

 

“Why?” Irene forced herself to ask, trying to choke down both her excitement and her fear as she looked at the simultaneously boundlessly wise and shocking naive young woman in front of her, the woman who dared to open a key into her visions, who could give her as much knowledge as Irene could give to her. It was dizzying to consider it now, especially now that she knew she was telepathic. 

 

Irene was hit by a vision just then, and this time she was Tessa and she could feel the infinity of observational and metacognitive data and information that flowed through her brain, how her nerves and eyes and ears and nose gathered so much information, how it felt when Sebastian, outraged at her refusal to do something truly evil, struck her. Irene tasted her blood in her mouth, felt her consciousness flicker, felt more blood quietly seep out of broken capillaries to form a bruise that she would wear as a badge of defiance. 

 

Irene’s- no,  _ Irene-as-Tessa’s _ eyes went wide as she saw Essex, the devil incarnate who had stolen her eyes, looming over her with those quiet emotionless eyes, the sadistic smile immaculately hidden under academic nonchalance. Anesthetic was a must, of course, as he began to cut and carve into her flesh, removing parts of her, altering other ones- it would not do to have Tessa die of shock, naturally, but at the same time, she was fully conscious as the tube filled with a grey fluid drained into her body. 

 

“I want to learn everything I can about time. About the past, the present and the future. So I can save the world, because …” Tessa took another sip of her drink and set it down and even though Irene was blind, she could see in her mind’s eye the shockingly vulnerable look in her eyes. “I’m terrified. I can constantly see scenarios and situations in which the world ends. I’ve known countless scenarios for global extinction. I’ve been seeing them since I was a little girl. And no matter how much I learn, how much I strive, I keep seeing the end around every corner.” 

 

Irene set down her glass and moved closer to Tessa and set a hand gently on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Oh Tessa, I know. I know how that feels. All I can say is that I’ve seen many apocalypses come and go. My visions are not always right.” But Irene knew that a great many of them were. And she didn’t need precognitive powers to know that Tessa was revealing more to her, perhaps than she had to anyone in her entire life. 

 

Irene was also smart enough to know that Tessa was intelligent and perceptive and manipulative enough to use her own emotional agony to her advantage. Irene supposed that perhaps she was supposed to abhor that, but she couldn’t possibly. Just because Tessa was using her own fears as a manipulative gambit didn’t mean that the feeling themselves weren’t real. It didn’t meant that the poor girl didn’t need to let them out to someone. 

 

“So … I’m here to gain the insight I need.” Tessa straightened herself. “Because as much as I know and as much as you know, I think we both need to know a lot more if we’re going to stand even a tiny, tiny chance of saving the world from itself.” The brief but real moment of emotional fragility had passed and a woman made of iron now sat in front of Irene. “And whatever price you demand, I don’t care, I’ll pay it or arrange to have it paid.” 

 

“And if I say no?” Irene asked softly. 

 

“I really, really don’t want that to happen.” Tessa replied. “I think this will all work much better if we don’t go there.”

 

“Don’t suppose that threatening me is going to get what you want, dear. You’d be terrifically disappointed.” Irene cautioned. 

 

“I’m not threatening you.” Tessa looked at her glass for a moment before her eyes settled back onto Irene. “I want your free cooperation. I don’t know if I could even get what I want forcefully anyway.” 

 

“But you feel desperate enough that you might try it anyway?” Irene softly inquired. 

Irene couldn’t see Tessa nod, but she knew that she did. 

 

“Then I suppose it would be very rude of me to decline.” Irene spoke, her voice as serious as possible. “But you need to know that none of this will be easy. For either of us. We may come to conclusions that neither of us like. How long do you have for this little journey of enlightenment you want to take?” 

 

“A week.” Tessa replied. “Eight days from now, I need to be back in Washington and Sebastian will be there. He’ll expect me to be there. As you can imagine, he’s not a man who likes to be disappointed.” 

 

“No, I suppose not.” Irene sighed. “That’s one thing we’ll have to discuss- do you love the man?” 

 

“I don’t believe in love.” Tessa replied. “He satisfies me sexually, and I him. He gives me anything I could ever desire materially and I expand his fortune exponentially. Through him I have access to vast resources and utilize them towards our mutual interests. We trust each other as much as either of us are capable of trusting anyone. These things actually exist. I don’t have time for intangibles.” 

 

“Things change, dear.” Irene cautioned. “And I’m afraid to say, Sebastian’s changed too. You must understand this. He’s been offered a poisoned chalice and has drunk deep.” 

 

“Does this have to do with the new Black Queen?” Tessa asked. 

 

“Her name is Selene and she is a demon wearing human skin. She serves dark masters, both of and not of this world. But she is not the poisoned chalice. Power is. You’ve drank of it too, but you’re not lost yet.” Irene spoke quietly but firmly. 

 

“Power is what enables us to enact our will. To do what we must.” Tessa replied skeptically. 

 

“It is. Power is like alcohol, a little bit of it is good and sweet. Everyone has their limits, some a little bit, some a great deal of it, but everyone has their limit. Their point of no return, the point at which they are lost and addicted to it. When they begin to seek power for its own sake. And I’m afraid, my dear, you have made a great habit of seeking out men who walk that razor’s edge.

 

I will give you all the enlightenment I have to offer dear, but I must warn you first. You won’t like it. Knowledge is dangerous.” 

 

“Knowledge is power.” 

 

“It is. Perhaps that suggests to you how dangerous this will be, for both of us?” 

 

“Do we really have a choice?” 

 

“We always have a choice.” 

 

“I’ve made mine.” 

 

“And so it begins, Tessa.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	21. Ororo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo is working on developing her powers better. 
> 
> She doesn't know whether she wants to stay or if she wants to go yet.

_ Try to clear your mind. Take a deep breath and relax. Continue until you are focused wholly on your breath.  _

 

Ororo resisted the urge to snap back sarcastically- she was fully aware of how meditation worked. However, she had to admit that the simulations and exercises that Xavier was giving her were having an impact- her mood affected the weather around them less and less, which had been fortunate for the people at the Xavier Institute, because it had been grey and either rainy or snowy for more days than it hadn’t been. 

 

To wit, she was not particularly happy here. Ororo hated that she’d arrived at the beginning of winter, which meant long months of cold desolation- she herself did not feel the cold very much, but compared to her home, Nature here felt so dead. Even though the Xavier Institute was surrounded by woodlands and wasn’t particularly close to New York City, she was constantly reminded of the unending intrusion of humanity into Nature. 

 

Trying to bury those emotions, she took a breath, feeling it fill her lungs, trying to ignore all the unnatural scents in the air- she wasn’t as sensitive to them as the man named Logan was, but she was uncomfortably aware of them. An infinity of artificially scented products. Food that was made several degrees removed from anything that grew from the soil or ate things that grew on the soil. It seemed like the height of madness here, how far people went to hide themselves from nature. 

 

_ Ororo, I know this is not an ideal environment for you, but please try to relax.  _

 

_ I will try.  _ Ororo closed her eyes and tried to focus on the mechanics of breathing in and out, slowly inhaling and exhaling, feeling the air flow in and out of her lungs. After a moment or two, she felt herself begin to relax, to focus entirely on the act of breathing. When she opened her eyes again, the virtual skies of the Danger Room had cleared and it was a warm sunny day now, hot as it would be in the height of summer.

 

Ororo was impressed by how realistic it all looked and indeed, even  _ felt.  _ A cool breeze wafted through her hair and now she smelled flowers and grass instead of the cacophony of artificial scents she so hated. The heat on her skin reminded her of actual sunlight, though it was a gentler sun than the remorseless baking heat she’d lived in most of her life. The air itself was neither especially dry or humid. She imagined that for just about anyone else, that this would feel very real indeed. 

 

Ororo knew better, though. The Danger Room, she was told, responded to her mental cues, but she couldn’t feel it- even the cold, dead landscape outside thrummed with a secret, hidden life. She reached up her hand and she couldn’t feel the winds far above their heads, because the Danger Room’s physical space was only relatively small. The ceiling was formidably high, to be sure, four stories, but then it ended. Should she take flight, the perspective would alter and she would ‘soar’ up into the heavens, but then she wouldn’t feel the ground at its proper level. 

 

Still, perhaps the mental discipline alone would be useful to her. There was a very good chance that she’d be gone from here soon enough anyway. Ororo hadn’t quite made up her mind regarding that, but she would be lying to herself if she said that she’d found the reason for her to really be there.  _ These people do not understand or seem to particularly need me. They certainly are not lacking for powerful mutants here.  _

 

_ I’m not the owner of a collection of powerful mutants. I want to help people to reach their full potential. Your connection to nature, I must admit is not something that is easy for me to understand, but I do find it fascinating. Your abilities are also deeply tied to your emotional state, for better or not.  _

 

That was true enough. Ororo knew that she had to carefully watch her emotions- she had been somewhat dour and unhappy in the last month or so and the weather in Salem Center had been similarly mediocre. When she had been happier, riding the winds of the great savanna, she had dispelled every cloud from the sky so the sun could shine more directly on her, unconsciously. That was a pleasant thing in moderate doses, but she knew that the rains were as important as the sunshine. 

 

When she was truly angry, big and ugly storms had a way of coming into being, scouring the soil with hard rain, pummelling young crops into oblivion with hail, starting wicked fires with lightning. Ororo knew, from bitter experience, that she was dangerous when she was angry enough, not simply to the people who had excited her wrath, but to innocent people as well. It had been one of the main reasons she had stayed as long as she had, the need to control that anger, to learn to divorce her emotions from the weather outside. 

 

Briefly, Ororo considered some of the other people at the Institute. She got along well with Logan, who seemed to share a disdain for the artificial world of humanity much as she did. He was certainly more comfortable in the winter landscape than she was, but Ororo supposed that was a simple matter of not being used to it. Piotr seemed to have an appreciation of nature as well and she could understand and respect someone so attuned to beauty in its myriad forms. He’d spoken on more than one occasion about starting a garden in the Xavier Institute grounds with great enthusiasm- he had apparently wanted to have one since he was a young boy. 

 

As for Dr. Hank McCoy, the other man who had come to take her from Africa, she had a fairly nuanced opinion. They had very different ideologies, his resolutely scientific-technological, one that to her seemed to put everything into coldly clinical boxes and labels. At the same time, she imagined she seemed like a strangely superstitious creature to him, someone who seemed to half-believe the rumours and legends around her. While they probably had as different a pair of worldviews as any two people that walked the Earth, Hank McCoy himself was a consistently kind and respectful man. Truthfully, she enjoyed their occasional arguments. 

 

Charles Xavier, the founder and namesake of the Institute, seemed to be of a fairly similar mentality to Hank McCoy, both in his resolute scientism and his essential kindness. But where Hank was endlessly curious about facts, Xavier seemed to be the same way about people, what motivated them, why they did the things they did. Ororo had to admit he was extremely perceptive when it came to people. He’d understood immediately that she had felt a little out of place and had both done his best to make her stay more comfortable and insisted on challenging her perceptions and abilities anyway. 

 

_ I want you to call up a storm without feeling anger. And once it’s been summoned up, to dispel it without changing your emotional state.  _

 

Ororo took a deep breath and attempted to do just that, seeing the clouds begin to thicken and darken around her, without reaching into the darkest recesses of her soul and bringing a far wilder storm around them. It wasn’t easy, trying to focus on the physical aspect of what she was doing, without feeling her connection to the Earth or allowing her to take on the appropriate mood. A rumble of thunder, however, suggested that she was on the right track. 

 

Ororo took another deep breath and focused on deepening the storm, on drawing out its fury without drawing on her own. Painful memories flitted briefly through her head, the air strike, her parents killed, Ororo buried underneath them, for two whole days, airless, hopeless, without a dream in the world. She remembered living as a street rat in the city, a common thief, constantly dodging beatings or worse. Ororo remembered learning to fight with a knife and then, one day, learning to turn her pain into a power she could never have imagined. 

 

From then, it had taken time for the Mother Goddess to reach her, for Earth to begin the process of healing her soul. But the pain and rage were always there, manifested as a terror of being in enclosed areas- so strong that she couldn’t even use an elevator and pervasive enough that she always felt just a little apprehensive about being indoors. An open sky couldn’t collapse around you, couldn’t become a living tomb. 

 

_ Ororo, be careful. You’re starting to lose control.  _

 

Ororo took another deep breath and focused on that for a moment, before trying to reach out with her mind, impassively, and create thunder and lightning anew where none was before. A rumble echoed over the room, sounding slightly unnatural to her ears due to the constrained space. She pushed her hands out and it started to rain, gently at first and then harder and harder, until it was flooding the ground around her, pouring vast torrents onto the ground. Another flash of lightning and now the wind whipped at nearly hurricane speeds. 

 

Even though it was all an illusion maintained by the technology of the Danger Room, Ororo’s heart couldn’t help but race a little faster at the power of the storm before her, the way that the landscape altered at a tiny whim. It was difficult to remain detached, to remain above the storm, to resist the urge to  _ become  _ it, but she did her best to do so. 

 

_ Now, I want you to dispel the storm. Can you do so quickly or does it need to taper off?  _

 

_ It is easier to taper it off. But I will try to bring it to a halt as quickly as possible.  _

 

Ororo reached out with her hands- she’d found out a long time ago that, even though she didn’t strictly need to make any gestures, that they helped her somehow. The Professor had told her that was common for mutants with energy-manipulation powers- that Jean Grey partly directed her telekinesis with hand and arm gestures, that before he’d left, his old friend Erik Lehnsherr had done the same with his magnetism. She tried to simply nullify it, to end it completely in an instant. 

 

The end for the storm was swift, though it was hardly instant, as it took about a full minute for the raging storm to end and for the skies to begin to reemerge from the thick black clouds that had filled the artificial sky. Another deep breath and she moved her hands again, brushing the rest of the dark clouds away, and as they were pushed away from the sun, they faded into wispy white clouds that would never even vaguely promise rain. 

 

_ And how was that, Professor Xavier?  _

 

_ Most impressive, Ororo. Most impressive.  _

 

The nature scene in the Danger Room then faded entirely into a colossal but simultaneously suffocating grey tomb-like space- it was all Ororo could do to fight down a sudden twinge of panic as she walked briskly outside of it. The hallways of the subterranean areas of the Institute were hardly any better, but they were at least not so sepulchral. Ororo knew that the elevators would end badly for her, but fortunately, Charles had installed a set of stairs. 

 

She couldn’t cross them fast enough before, at least, she was above ground.  _ What’s wrong with me? I’m indoors, not crushed underneath a collapsed building.  _ As she reached ground level, she opened the door and headed into the kitchen, relieved to see the window, even though the ground was snowy and unfamiliar to her. It was soothing to see even that glimpse of nature through glass and to go through the motions of making herself some tea. 

 

_ Are you all right, Ororo?  _

 

_ I’m fine.  _ Ororo replied, her thoughts slightly harsh as she tried not to think about the moment of raw panic she’d just endured, trying to focus on making tea just as the Professor had told her to focus on breathing. She didn’t doubt that he’d be able to sense that she wasn’t being entirely honest with him, but he hoped that he’d have the good grace not to say anything about it. Perhaps another time she’d want to discuss it, but not today. 

 

“Evenin’.” Logan declared simply as he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, digging out a beer, opening the bottle and taking a long drink of it. “Training with the Professor?” 

 

“Yes.” Ororo replied evenly. “It appears to be going well enough, though it’s not remotely the same as it is in reality.” She’d relaxed enough that she could actually give him a small smile. “And you? Still clearing out the cabin?” A lot of people probably thought he was crazy for not wanting to live in the Institute itself, but Ororo wished there was another little cabin on the property somewhere. 

 

“Fixin’ it up, more like. It’s been pretty neglected for a long time. But I like the work and the Russian doesn’t mind it either, do you, Petey?” A few seconds later, Piotr had walked in as well, rosy-cheeked from being outside in the cold weather, though Ororo suspected that, as a Russian, he was comfortable enough with the winter.  _ Perhaps in time I will be as well.  _ Logan dug another beer out of the fridge and passed it over to Piotr. 

 

“The Professor?” Piotr asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. 

 

“Nice guy, but you’re a big enough boy to drink a damn beer.” Logan laughed and though Piotr didn’t openly laugh, he smiled slightly and opened the beer. “Besides, it’s mine. Just haven’t moved it over to the cabin yet. Ain’t nobody gonna tell me who I can or cannot give a beer too.” He looked over at Ororo. “You want one?” 

 

“No thank you.” Ororo replied with a faint smile. She’d never liked alcohol much, or liked the effect it could have on people, though she doubted that either Logan or Piotr would drink to such an extent. Logan’s healing abilities probably effectively prevented him from getting drunk and Piotr was simply far too large for a drink or two to have much of an impact on him. She was a tall woman, only an inch or so short of six feet, but Piotr was still nearly a head taller than she was. Next to Logan, he looked particularly huge. 

 

Piotr looked at her for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but either couldn’t find the words or was too shy to come out and say it. Ororo knew he was a quiet, contemplative soul at heart and she wondered how long he’d be able to maintain a relationship with a social butterfly like Betsy- offhandedly, she didn’t imagine it’d be long. 

 

“Yes, Piotr?” Ororo inquired softly, hoping to get it out of him. “What is it?” 

 

“Are you planning to leave, shortly?” Piotr asked. “Of course, you can, you have every right to. But if I am to be honest, I do not want you to. It is good to have you here.” 

 

“I’m gonna echo what the big guy says. Place needs all different sorts of people and there’s no mistakin’ you for anyone else around here. Besides, the Russian’s been yammerin’ about that garden and he’s gonna be heartbroken if he can’t get rain on demand.” Logan grinned faintly and she was aware that he was clearly looking at her with something more than entirely friendly interest. It was not excessive or disrespectful and she was scarcely upset about it, but she certainly made a note of it. 

 

“I have not made a decision.” Ororo replied, as the water for her tea finally came to a boil. She put it into the teapot, so it could steep properly. “When I decide, one way or the other, you both will be the first to know, I promise.” 

 

“I’m holdin’ you to that, `Ro.” Logan smiled as he said that, but she was quite certain he meant it seriously. 


	22. Rogue VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue hesitates a little bit before making her big decision.

It had taken Rogue a lot longer to get to the Institute in Westchester than if she’d simply flown straight there- she’d slowed down considerably once she was out of the main New York city area and as she passed into Westchester, she’d stopped flying entirely and found herself dithering away inside some old diner called the Lucky Seven, picking at (admittedly delicious) fries and a shake. Rogue knew that she was on the edge of making a truly life-altering decision. 

 

Rogue could of course, simply fly back and say that she’d been pissed off and needed some time by herself, which was certainly true enough. At the same time, however, she knew, deep down, that what her Momma was doing was wrong- terribly wrong. The notion that she’d act in any way against people who had risked their lives to help her was horrifying. She couldn’t imagine her Mom supporting that. Rogue had tried to call her already, but she had her phone off. 

 

Somewhere in the middle of her order of fries, the phone rang. It was Irene’s number. 

 

“Mom …” Rogue tried her hardest to keep herself together and not start crying hideously in the middle of a busy restaurant. “I don’t know what to do. The things that Momma’s getting up to, I can’t support them. Have you seen what’s happened?” Rogue hoped she had, because if she’d seen them in her visions, maybe she wouldn’t have to actually relate everything. 

 

“Oh Anna-Marie, I’m so sorry.” Her mom spoke softly on the phone. “You sound so upset. Where are you right now?” 

 

“At some diner in Westchester County, not too far from the Xavier Institute. I’m trying to decide if I go ahead and tell them that they’re gonna get attacked by the goons that Momma’s hiring. Or if I should go there and ask for a place to stay or if I should just go back to the House and act like nothing’s happened. I don’t  _ know,  _ Mom. I’m so frightened.” Rogue breathed a little tremulously in the phone. “I tried calling you, where were you?” 

 

“Receiving visions- Rogue, I’m sorry.” Rogue realized at that moment she could hear sounds from what sounded like someone else on the phone, something which momentarily filled her veins with ice. 

 

“Mom, who’s there with you?” Rogue asked, hoping that it was a neighbour. 

 

“A guest of mine.” Irene replied. “Someone who is going to help me make sense of my visions.” She paused for a moment. “I’ll tell you more about it soon. I want you to listen to me. You have as good a mind and a heart as anyone. Trust your heart and your gut. What does it tell you? Listen to them and do as they tell you.” 

 

“What if they’re not saying the same thing?” Rogue replied, a little more harshly than she’d intended. “My heart says- family, no matter what. My gut tells me that Momma’s doing something that’s wrong.” 

 

“Is that really your heart speaking? Or what you think it should say?” Irene replied softly. “You’ll have to make up your mind quickly, I’m afraid. Two people from the Institute are coming into the diner where you’re at in less than five minutes. You’re going to have to decide whether you are going to approach them and go with them to the Institute or whether you’re going to come back to New York.” 

 

Rogue was silent for a moment. “When I went … inside your head, I saw myself fighting Magneto. I know … I know I have to do that. But I can’t do that if I stay with Momma.” She wiped at her eyes, which were welling up with tears. “I don’t give a darn about Erik. He can do whatever. But Momma loves him and she’ll fight with him.” She didn’t mention the other part of it, the part where it all ended in blinding electrical pain. Mom probably knew that already. 

 

Rogue hoped that she didn’t, but she probably did. Mom knew all manner of things and Rogue knew that very often they were painful things indeed. 

 

“I can’t tell you what to do. You’ve got to make this decision yourself, but I know that you’ll make the right one.” Irene spoke in that soft, warm voice that never failed to make Rogue feel better, no matter what was wrong. She couldn’t help but smile, even though she was crying at the same time. “Listen to your heart, Anna-Marie, it won’t steer you wrong. I promise you.” 

 

“Thank you, Mom.” Rogue replied softly, wiping at her eyes again. “I … I’ve got a lot of thinking to do in the next few minutes.” 

 

“I know. We’ll speak again soon. I love you, Anna-Marie.” From most people, Rogue found the use of her given name an annoyance not easily forgiven, but she’d always made an exception for Mom. It was amusing, really, that Mom always resisted the name that she’d basically given herself some time ago. Rogue thought that, for Mom, it was a connection to her as a little girl, back when she was concerned with tea parties and not the future of humanity and mutantkind. 

 

“I love you too, Mom.” Rogue hung up the phone and wiped at her eyes again. Nobody was paying her much attention, thankfully, to them, she was probably yet another moody teenage girl in an oversized hoodie. She pulled up the hood over her head and waited. Mom had said that people from the Institute would be there in five minutes.  _ It’ll be the longest danged five minutes of my life.  _ She slipped an earbud into one ear, hoping that maybe some music would help. 

 

Of  _ course  _ Rogue’s phone would have to play  _ I Walk The Line,  _ of course it would, because the universe seemed to enjoy rubbing it in whenever she had to make momentous decisions. Normally, she’d be happy enough about it, she absolutely loved Johnny Cash- she had a fondness for the classic music of the South in general, whether country or folk or rock, but right now she didn’t need even an oblique reminder that she had the biggest decision of her life to make. 

 

Rogue changed the song, but everything was serious or lovelorn and she couldn’t seem to bring up something that distracted her even a little to save her life- but she realized, that wasn’t what she needed anyway. She took the earbud out, took a belated sip of what she had to admit was a really good strawberry milkshake and prepared to make the most momentous decision of her entire life. She’d wasted almost two minutes on trying to find appropriate music. It wouldn’t be long now.

 

Rogue knew, deep down, however, that she wasn’t going anywhere. The vision did make everything a little more clear, but at the same time, she had a feeling she’d be here anyway. She was sixteen now, recently turned, practically a grown woman. It was time for her to make her own decisions. And while she had no particular issues with beating down people who harassed or attacked mutants, while she didn’t really care about making life hard for a government that seemed to dislike their people, she couldn’t abide making plans to move against people who had helped them. 

 

The more Rogue thought about it, too, the more she realized that starting some sort of war wasn’t going to help mutants, either- in fact, it would do precisely the opposite. She loved Momma, loved her with all her heart and it killed her to have to leave, to do worse than that, to actively interfere with what Momma was trying to accomplish, but what she was trying to do was wrong on multiple levels.  _ I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t. I gotta draw my line in the sand somewhere.  _

 

The door to the diner swung open with the faint whine of an inadequately greased hinge and she knew, just  _ knew  _ that they were here. She chanced a small glance out from behind her hoodie at the two people arriving. A slight chill went up her spine, because of course, it would be Kurt. Her Momma’s son, that she thought had been lost for so many years and had just been found now. Someone who had probably felt slightly out of place all his life- his distinctive appearance was covered by some kind of hologram, but she could tell his features easily. 

 

Of course it would have to be him- the universe would just have to make this as painful as it could possibly be. She’d go and tell him that his mother who he was probably all kinds of excited about finally meeting was going to go attack him and his friends. It wouldn’t be easy to spoil his excitement, not to mention his date, but all that made it the more important to tell him. He could have a nice date with Wanda some other night. There were more important things right now. 

 

Rogue threw down her hoodie and walked over to the table where they were sitting. 

 

“Hey.” There wasn’t a smile or any other attempt to be pleasant. Rogue wanted it to be clear that she meant business. “We need to talk. Now.” 

 

Wanda raised her eyebrow, but didn’t say anything immediately. Kurt looked up at her for a second and then gestured for her to sit. The next moment was a five-second silence that felt like it contained entire ages of history. She could palpably tell that she was barging in on what was probably going to be a lovely evening for them. She’d known, a little too well for her liking, that they were very fond of each other. Kurt and Wanda hadn’t been entirely subtle about that on the plane. 

 

“Well, if you’ve got something to say, say it.” Wanda finally said, just as blunt as Rogue was. She was a lot darker than her father- her skin more of an olive-ish tone and her hair so dark as to nearly appear black. But even though her eyes were green, she could see some of Wanda’s father in there. “Because right now, you’re just interrupting our date.” Kurt looked a little surprised at that, but Rogue didn’t really mind it. That was precisely what she was doing at the moment. 

 

“I need you to take me to Professor Xavier. Y’all are going to get attacked, maybe a couple of different times, or by multiple people at once. I don’t have a lot of details, but, I remembered how you helped me and I don’t forget that.” She tried to keep her tone level and she found that the best way was simply to stare at them. Rogue wasn’t exactly trying to stare them down or anything, but she needed to muster her strength. 

 

Kurt looked over at Wanda for a moment, and of course, he did, because she was a Lehnsherr and they tended to crowd out other people, even if it was unconscious. Rogue didn’t really have any particularly strong opinion of Wanda, but she’d seen enough of Erik to form a general opinion about Lehnsherrs. Pietro struck her as something of a failed Lehnsherr. He wasn’t the overwhelming power that his father was and he’d been broken under it. 

 

It was Kurt, however, who actually spoke. “Let’s go.” He and Wanda got up and they went over to the car they’d driven to the diner. Normally, she figured Kurt for the sort of guy who opened doors for ladies, but they were in some haste, an impression that was only emphasized further when Rogue got her first experience of Wanda driving. Frankly, Rogue had no idea that speed could still be frightening for her- but somehow, even knowing that there was no conceivable way she could be killed by the car, no matter what happened didn’t help matters. 

 

When they arrived back at the Institute and pulled into the garage, they got out of the car and went straight towards Charles Xavier’s office, wasting absolutely no time in doing so, which was a relief to Rogue. She hadn’t had to give Kurt any of the truly ugly details yet, though she was sure he’d learn them soon enough. She realized that she could refuse to say anything at this point and simply leave, crash through the window. No one could realistically stop her. In fact, if she wanted to, right now, she could probably take on them. She’d yet to meet any individual that could stop her. 

 

But Rogue knew that when those oak doors opened, that she would walk into the door and sit down demurely in front of Professor Charles Xavier, who looked like nothing so much as a kindly old uncle and tell him what little she knew. She did just that, walking into the door and sitting down on the desk across from him, finding his gently curious look more difficult to deal with than an honest scowl. 

 

“Rogue? Is that what I should call you?” Charles started, and her impression of him as her favorite uncle that she’d never had wasn’t shaken. She couldn’t imagine for the life of her how anyone could hate him, though admittedly, Cain Marko was enough of a thug that he probably hated everyone. She despised him from the moment she met him. He was the ultimate bully, every schoolyard tormentor blown up to outsized proportions. 

 

In some ways, though, it was his companion that actually frightened her. Black Tom Cassidy- she’d done a little research. Cain Marko was a thug and a bully and she didn’t doubt he’d done a lot of awful things, but Black Tom Cassidy was an honest-to-god  _ terrorist,  _ someone who had earned a bloody reputation during the Troubles in Ireland. He’d masterminded attacks that had killed, in total, at least a few hundred people. He’d been suspected as being an agent behind arms deals and criminal operations in half the world. 

 

That all was pretty terrible, but she’d taken one look at the man and she knew that he was one hundred percent amoral, someone who didn’t have any regard whatsoever for human life. That Momma could work with people like that frightened her to no end. That Momma could turn people like those onto a man like Charles Xavier, on someone who had sheltered and helped her own son? 

 

“Raven Darkholme-” Rogue started, but the distancing tactic didn’t work. “My Momma’s hired Black Tom Cassidy and Cain Marko to attack the Institute. And the people who live at the house are supposed to do something else, maybe separately, at the same time. Maybe to draw people out, I don’t know. I don’t actually have a lot of details and maybe it’s stupid that I came here without those, but you need to know that. You need to prepare any way you can, because if Momma’s doing this, it’s because Erik’s putting her up to it. And I knew you guys were friends, but-” 

 

“That appears to no longer be the case.” Charles replied sadly and her heart broke a little at the way he said that, the way that Rogue knew he was basically putting the epitaph on a very long-lasting and important friendship. “Thank you. I cannot imagine how difficult this was for you. Do you know what you’re going to do now?” 

 

“.. actually, I was going to ask you if I could stay here for awhile.” Rogue sighed. 

 

“Even knowing that we cannot promise your safety?” Charles leaned forward a little, probably curious about that. “Cain Marko is a very, very powerful mutant. I can say with great confidence that he’s far stronger than even you are. And if Erik is behind this, he may be able to furnish Cain with protection against telepathy. Why would you want to stay here, knowing that?” 

 

“Because I feel like a line’s being drawn and I want to be on the right side of it.” Rogue replied, quietly, but with all the conviction she could muster. 

 

“Your mother-” Charles started. 

 

“She’s wrong. What she’s doing is wrong and I hope that she sees that soon.” Rogue knew that she was going to cry pretty much immediately and she hated herself for that and she hated her Momma a little for putting her in this situation and she hated  _ everyone  _ a little bit just then. “I love her, but she’s  _ wrong. _ ”


	23. Charles V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles receives distressing news on the personal front.

Charles had a colossal headache, for which any regular medication was doing absolutely nothing. It had only been a few hours since Rogue had left the office, in a dire emotional state. He felt for her, he truly did- she doubtlessly thought of herself as betraying her family and perhaps, she wasn’t wrong in that assessment. The news she had brought was not good either- he knew little about this Black Tom Cassidy, but if Cain had someone who could guide his strength towards a purpose, that was a dire development indeed.

 

The fact that they were working for Erik was disturbing on any number of levels as well, both because it implied that his friendship with Erik was really and truly dead and because Erik could no doubt supply Cain with some means of blocking telepathy. If that was the case, they’d have to be able to counteract it, or he’d be unstoppable. Charles knew too, that whatever Cain told Erik, that once he came, he’d be seeking to kill Charles and wouldn’t care what collateral damage got in the way. 

 

And what would he do about his students? It was difficult enough as it was to keep everyone there, even with the active support of the students themselves, if Cain Marko attacked, there would be no way of hushing that up. He couldn’t blame anyone for wanting to leave, but if the Institute was a failure … the thought was one that he couldn’t even bear to entertain. The Institute couldn’t be a failure. He’d invested so much into it, so much of his energy, his heart and soul, not to mention virtually his entire fortune. 

 

It had come with a cost- he hadn’t been back to Scotland to see Moira for some months now and the last few conversations they had were tense. He’d managed to keep that from Scott thus far, not wanting to burden his son any more than Scott burdened himself, but sooner or later, it would become manifest. Charles and Moira’s marriage had always been one that was comfortable with physical distance, but as his work here became all-consuming, the distance had grown on other planes as well. 

 

Charles opened his desk and took out the envelope again- his name was written in Moira’s distinct script on the front. It was thicker than a normal letter should be. Looking at it, he felt his stomach coil up and his heart sink. He hadn’t been physically able to even open it, as if for some reason, if he didn’t physically open the letter, he could deny its contents. He set it back into the drawer. It had been more than a day already. He’d have to open the letter soon. 

 

Much as he feared having to face his half-brother, Charles Xavier would rather be trampled under Cain Marko’s boots for all time than to be faced with what was, at best, separation papers. Charles knew that was, very much, a best-case scenario. He couldn’t blame Moira in the slightest- he’d been forced to play several roles in the last while, but one he hadn’t done very well was that of a husband.  _ And yet, I can’t help but feel angry and abandoned. But why should I? I haven’t even opened the letter. I don’t know what it says.  _

 

Charles decided at that moment to take the letter out again and open it up. He managed to keep his hand steady as he opened the envelope and removed, just as he feared, legal-looking forms. There was an actual letter at the end of it, handwritten in the elegant script that Moira used, one that was infinitely more beautiful than the barely-legible scrawl he himself used. They used to joke that if Xavier wasn’t a geneticist and benefactor, that he would’ve made a fine pharmacist.

 

Charles set down the forms for a moment, intending to pick up and read the letter in its entirety, when he saw a word on one of the forms that reached out and shattered his heart.  _ Divorce.  _ He set down everything, though it was closer to dropping it in truth as he hung his head down and tried desperately to process his emotions, and even more so, to keep from broadcasting his grief, anger, pain and overwhelming sadness to everyone in the school. 

 

A brief, maniac hope tried to convince him that perhaps he’d mistaken the context or that he’d convinced himself that that word existed on the papers when it really hadn’t- he decided once again to pick up the letter and read it. 

 

_ Charles,  _

 

_ I’ve tried so long not to do this, not to write this letter and I’m so sorry to hurt you, but I think we both know we’ve been moving apart for some time. I know we’ve always said that distances didn’t matter, when we were on other sides of the Atlantic and our hearts were together, but now we’re so far apart in every way. I know you’re doing what you feel is right and your devotion to what you believe is right is one of the things that made me fall in love with you.  _

 

_ But I need more than this. I can’t do this anymore, being married and not ever seeing and barely ever speaking with you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry to hurt you. I hope we can work out the details without fighting over them. Scott’s a grown man and Rahne will be a woman soon. I’m not looking for your assets.  _

 

_ It hurts so much to write this and I know it hurts you to receive it, but how much more does it hurt to try to pretend that we have a marriage when we don’t? I’m sorry, Charles, but I can’t pretend that. I’ll always care for you, truly, but I can’t pretend for your sake.  _

 

_ Moira _

 

Charles stared at the letter for a long time, only becoming aware that he was crying when teardrops started falling on the paper. He fought the urge to crumple up the letter and throw it into the fire, to throw everything into the fire. He knew, though, that sending him forms to sign was essentially a formality, he couldn’t actually refuse. He also knew that even if he could, what was the point? He’d already, seemingly, lost her love, did he really want her to hate him? 

 

Instead, he set it down gently on to the side and started to put his signature on all the relevant forms. True to her word, Moira was requesting nothing from him- assets that he couldn’t realistically give anyway, because essentially his entire fortune was invested in the operations of the Institute. Moira wanted full custody of Rahne, which Charles expected, since she’d stayed on Muir Island the whole time and even in happier days, there’d always been a sense that Scott was his son and Rahne Moira’s daughter. 

 

Once the forms were all signed, with only a few teardrops on them, Charles set them aside, hung his head in his hands and wept, realizing in a terrible moment that he’d brought all this down on himself when he’d started the Institute, that he’d set himself on this road. Nobody had warned him, or even suggested to him, that the cost for doing so would be this great. He’d suspected that the Institute and its associated activities could be deleterious to his financial well-being, had considered that a worthwhile price. Money could be earned anew, investors could be brought in. 

 

It was the personal cost that seemed so staggering now. Already, he’d lost both his closest friendship and his marriage and Charles could only imagine what else could happen. And yet, deep down, Charles knew that if he could do things over again, the Institute would still have opened and that most of the major decisions he made were the same. Perhaps simply being more attentive towards Moira would have changed things there, but Charles suspected that, at best, things would have come to a head later. 

 

It was comforting, naturally, to think that this was inevitable and that it wasn’t Charles’s fault on any level- that it was the cruel hand of fate by itself that had mandated that Moira fall out of love with him. He loved Moira too much to blame her personally, to assign guilt to her. Charles knew that she must have been terribly lonely, supposedly married, but never seeing and rarely hearing from her husband. Some irrational anger, of course, remained held against her, but on the whole, Charles would far rather have blamed impersonal fate. 

 

_ But that’s not true, is it? This is the result of decisions I made and I need to accept that. Certainly, it’s too late to unmake any of them.  _ Charles knew, deep down, that he had no one to blame but himself, that unlike what had happened with Erik, this time, the responsibility lay entirely on his own shoulders. It was a sobering thought and one that made him not particularly want to be sober. 

 

That wasn’t an option, though, for a few reasons- if he started trying to escape from this pain, he had a terrible feeling that he’d never stop running and he couldn’t afford where that would take him. The Institute couldn’t afford it, Scott couldn’t afford it. He needed to put his pain and grief to the side and focus. He had so much work to do, both maintaining the everyday operations of the Institute and trying to think of a plan to defend himself and the others from the attack that he knew was coming. 

 

The irony that it was precisely this extreme dedication that had cost him his marriage was far from lost on him- but what else was there left for him to do? Charles had frequently joked about being consumed by his work, but now it seemed like a terrible reality. He entertained, briefly, the thought of abandoning it and contacting Moira and going to Muir Island. Perhaps if he made some sort of radical gesture, he could change things. But then what would happen to the people who counted on him? 

 

It was easy to think of nameless people who might be benefitted by his work in the future, but in the here and now, there were people who needed him. What about Bobby, who had for all intents and purposes been kicked out of his family? Logan, who had no family at all and nowhere to go? What about Jean or Wanda, who had needed his help to rebuild their broken minds in the past and may need it again? What about Scott, who would surely try to carry on where Charles left, if he left? He knew that, no matter how tempted he may have been, that he couldn’t leave. 

 

He doubted it would make much difference anyway.

 

The door opened and Scott walked in and sat down heavily across from him. Charles looked up and he realized immediately that Scott knew about everything that had happened. He couldn’t see his son’s eyes readily and he wasn’t looking through his thoughts but everything about the way he held himself, the cast of his face, spoke volumes. There was silence for a moment, punctuated only by the shared sound of their breathing. 

 

“How?” Charles asked softly, almost a whisper. 

 

“I got a phone call.” Scott paused for a moment. “How long?” 

 

“I received the papers yesterday morning.” Charles looked over at them again. “I just opened them a few minutes ago. I couldn’t … I knew, but I couldn’t open them until just now. Who called?” 

 

“Rahne. I think … I think she was so upset that she couldn’t talk to me just then.” Charles knew that the ‘she’ she spoke of was Moira, not Rahne herself. Charles became uncomfortably aware of both Scott’s breathing and their own, mingled with the faint hum of electronic devices in the office. The silence was deafening and Charles prayed that Jubilee would disrupt it by skating in the hallways or one of the other normally extraordinarily vexing little habits she’d acquired. 

 

“You don’t have to not call her ‘Mother’ to spare my feelings.” Charles looked at Scott. “You don’t have to feel that you have to take my side. It’s not a matter of that.” 

 

“I don’t know how to feel about this, exactly. I’m still trying to process it.” Scott stood up for a moment, pacing over to where Charles sat. “I don’t know what to think about the whole thing, I really don’t. Whether I should be angry or feel abandoned, or just sad.” There was a sharp exalation of breath and in a swift moment, Scott had gone to his knees and thrown his arms around Charles, who clung on as tightly as he could. 

 

“You’ve still got me, and everyone else here. We’re a family of our own now.” Scott spoke softly. “Everyone at the Institute. And no matter how desolate and horrible things seem right now, between these letters and the threats we’ve got, we’re not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of us all if you wanted to.” 

 

“Moira said that, not so long ago.” Charles noted sadly, but he had to believe, had no choice but to believe that this time, Scott meant it, that he wouldn’t leave Charles. Scott, and the others at the Institute right now, were just about all that Charles had left.  

 

“Dad.” Scott spoke firmly and in that instant, Charles didn’t see a trace of the scared, traumatized little boy he’d first found in that Nebraska orphanage. “We are not leaving you. Go and ask. Ask Wanda and Jean, who you saved from their own minds. Go and ask Bobby, who doesn’t have a home outside the Institute. Ask Logan who you gave a reason to live and fight. Go and ask Kitty for who this place is an sanctuary, no matter how dangerous things are. Go and ask Piotr and Kurt. Go and ask them, Dad.” 

 

“And you, Scott? What about you?” Charles looked at him, he knew the answer, but he needed to hear the words. 

 

“This is my life, Dad. You know that.” Scott replied. “No matter what happens, I’m here.” 

 

“Don’t make my mistakes, Scott.” Charles insisted. “Promise me you won’t make the same mistakes I have.” The thought of Scott losing Jean the same way broke his heart in a hundred new and different ways. It was so especially terrifying because he knew that, even though they didn’t share blood, that the two men were so similar in their devotion to ideals. 

 

“Dad …” Scott protested and this time Charles could see a little bit of the boy, who was convinced that his father could do no wrong. 

 

“Promise me, Scott.” Charles insisted again. 

 

A moment of silence passed. 

 

“ _ Promise me. _ ” Charles pressed further. 

 

“I promise.” Scott finally replied. Charles pulled him closer and the two men held each other for a long moment. Charles, having heard the promise, felt that he could let go, sobbing freely into his son’s shoulder.


	24. Tessa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa and Irene explore the past and visions of the future together. 
> 
> It's all terribly grim. 
> 
> Warning, there's definitely some pretty graphic violence in this one.

“It is a strange thing, being able to inhabit my visions like this.” Irene looked around her. “I could, perhaps, have done without seeing this place, of all places.” Her lips read the phrase on the wall-  _ Arbeit Macht Frei.  _ “What a cruel joke.” She turned towards Tessa. “Erik. We’re going to be seeing something about him. He was here, briefly. Before he was transferred to a secretive research camp.” 

 

“How is that possible?” Tessa turned towards Irene, raising her eyebrow. She had known, of course, that Erik was far older than she was- that much was visibly obvious. “If he were in the camps, even as a small child, he’d be a very old man by now.” Her eyes watched the shuffling mass of shaven-headed, emaciated people, some men, some women- some wearing the yellow star marking them as Jews, others wearing a variety of other symbols. 

 

It didn’t take Tessa long to realize that Irene was speaking the truth, though, because there was a young man in the mass, nearly as skinny as the rest, with his signature silver hair entirely shaven off, but unlike the dead eyes of the vast majority of the people around him, his burned with righteous anger. If a simple look could kill, than young Erik Lehnsherr would have consumed the entirety of the camp with a simple gaze. 

 

“Perhaps soon we will find out.” Irene replied evenly and Tessa saw her eyes- and in the world of her visions, Irene did have her eyesight, fixated on a tall, aristocratic looking man with pale skin and dark hair immaculately cut short and in a perfectly trimmed goatee. Amid the shuffling, gaunt mass of prisoners he stuck out immensely. His eyes flitted over the people of the camps for a moment. Tessa knew what was going to happen next. 

 

Selection. They would be moved to the right or to the left- one group would be allowed to survive for a few more days or weeks or months as slave labourers for the Nazis, the ones on the other side would be ushered straight into the gas chambers. Uniformed guards lurked all around the group of prisoners, their dogs barking and snarling, children crying, and amid it all, this one man, full of purpose and absolutely no visible reaction to the suffering around him, walking about them. 

 

“His name is Nathaniel Essex, he went by different names in different times. That was the name he told me when he took my eyes.” Irene spoke and her voice was tight, filled with fear and hatred mingled far more intensely than anything Tessa had felt before from the normally calm, controlled woman. “You will be seeing a lot of him in these visions. He floats in and out of our history, the history of mutantkind like a shadow.” 

 

No one was being moved to one side or the other this time. Instead, Essex looked towards what looked like the captain of the guard and told the guard quietly that he wanted to run a test. There was an anomaly, he said, amid the swine, someone who would be valuable to the creation of wonder weapons for the Third Reich. He told the captain that only terror, only trauma, could activate the promise lying within that blood. 

 

“Fire freely.” Essex said and he watched with vague disinterest as the bullets of the SS men ripped through the bodies of the prisoners and no matter how cold and calculating that Tessa thought she was, she wanted to turn away in horror. But she made herself watch. She made herself hear the screaming, watch the bodies slump down to the ground, dead. And one young man with burning blue eyes standing there, several bullets levitated in the air in front of him. 

 

Essex snapped his fingers and a big SS guard shoved his rifle butt directly into Erik’s face, sending him slumping towards the ground. Tessa watched the young Erik Lehnsherr writhing on the ground, only semi-conscious, and heard Essex give further orders to prepare the boy for transport.

 

“This Essex you speak of- he’s keeping mutants alive. Preserving them. I’ve noticed in the Hellfire Club files on emerging mutants that there are a disproportionate number of mutants descended from Holocaust survivors.” Tessa considered that for a moment- it seemed obvious that he was doing that, but the question was, why? Why was Essex keeping these mutants alive? He didn’t seem to be controlling them over long periods of time. What was his motivation? 

 

Everything started to fade around them as the shape of Irene’s visions shifted from a recognizable past into something very different indeed. Now instead of the grim greyness of Auschwitz-Birkenau, there were the ruins of colossal buildings, a city reduced to a shadow of its former self. It took Tessa a moment to identify the city, but when she did, she felt a chill go up her spine.  _ This is New York City and now we are watching the future.  _

 

One of the features of Irene’s visions was that they were spared the sense of smell- and for that, Tessa was glad, because the choking smoke and the reek of decay from the countless broken bodies around them would be far too much to handle. No matter how tough she thought she was, no matter how good she was at distancing herself from things happening around her, she was ultimately human and she could only take so much. It was hard enough seeing the ruins of a city that, if she didn’t precisely love it, had a certain fondness for. 

 

“That’s good. Recognizing that you have limits.” Irene looked at her. “I’ve seen this many times. My visions are of what has been, but can also be of what may come. The more often I see it, however, the more likely it is to come to pass.” As Irene spoke, however, Tessa’s attention was distracted by a faint mechanical sound. She turned and saw one of the most terrifying sights she’d ever seen in her life. 

 

The mutant was colossal- she remembered thinking once that Piotr Rasputin had been large, but this one must have been a hundred feet high, a nightmarish fusion of flesh and machine, with corpse-grey skin and the blue lips of someone who had died of asphyxiation, eyes that drank the light around it, that seemed to suck in the faint illumination offered by various fires and a wan, red sun and cast the whole area in a distinct pall of darkness. The mechanical parts of the mutant’s body were constantly shifting and changing, cutting into the fleshy parts, which themselves were alive with constant change, bleeding freely, but constantly regenerating. 

 

Tessa watched as two other figures came out from the skies, one recognizable as Erik Lehnsherr, in the crimson-and-purple armour he’d worn when he attacked Tony Stark in his research lab or the Purifiers at their church and the other wreathed in white-hot flame. She watched as first, Erik hurled massive hunks of metal at the titanic creature, targeting its eyes, throat, knees, all the parts that should have been weak and at first, she watched the shrapnel find its mark, slicing deep into the foul creature’s flesh. 

 

Then the flames came, in a vast torrent, engulfing the entirety of the body of the colossal mutant fiend, burning the fleshy parts of his body black, heating the metallic portions to red-hot and then making portions of them melt, the molten metal running over flesh, no doubt blistering and burning it further. Tessa braced herself to hear the screams of the colossal mutant- surely it was being slain and she wished fervently that it were so, because the moment she’d seen this creature, she’d hated it with every fiber of her being. 

 

“Do you know who the woman is?” Tessa asked as she could just barely make out the form of a woman inside the white-hot flame, which burned so bright that it made looking at her difficult. 

 

“Her name is Jean Grey. But she is better known as the Phoenix.” Irene replied. 

 

“The Phoenix? I’ve never heard of the Phoenix in my life.” Tessa countered. “I’m aware of Jean Grey. Telepath and telekinetic. Current student at the Xavier Institute. I didn’t know she could create and control flames as well.” It was truly an impressive sight, the ongoing torrent of flames, searing and burning away the colossal mutant’s flesh and mechanical additions. “She appears to be winning the struggle.” 

“Appearances are deceptive. Look now.” Irene pointed out to Tessa and she could see clearly that the colossal mutant’s flesh wasn’t being burned away anymore and indeed, even in the incredible heat and force that she was generating, despite the ongoing torrent of razor-sharp shrapnel being flung at the vile titan, its flesh was visibly regenerating.  _ He’s adapting to the attack. In real-time.  _ Tessa wished that she could use her ability to analyze genomes, but that would require a level of interaction with the subjects that she was glad she didn’t have. 

 

The colossal mutant’s form then dissolved into a huge cloud of shadow, one that drank the light around it as eagerly as its eyes had before and hurtled towards Erik, who tried to dispel it, as did Jean, but to no avail as the shadowy cloud enveloped Erik, adhering to him, covering him completely so that Tessa could see no remnant of Erik anymore. When the titan reforged itself, its mechanical parts were forged anew, greased liberally with blood that she knew belonged to Erik. She felt a twinge of deep-felt disgust in her gut as the ever-shifting flesh and machine parts occasionally disgorged a chunk of Erik. 

 

A thought came to her. “Do you have any knowledge about whether Essex has a connection to this being?” 

 

“I do not know that.” Irene replied quietly. “But we may find out some of that together.” Tessa turned her eyes back towards Jean Grey, who had summoned up a colossal avian form forged of fire and light, one that seemed to turn back the darkness that the titanic mutant seemed to project virtually everywhere. Another torrent of bright flame screamed towards the colossal mutant but now the flames only scorched instead of burned away flesh and soon enough, no damage at all was done. 

 

Now Jean Grey started hurling larger and larger objects at the titan, but each attack was turned back with ease as it advanced closer and closer to her. It was obvious that she was trying to apply vast telekinetic force against it, but the titan’s skin and mechanical portions shifted again into the shimmering form of vibranium, absorbing and blocking the force directed against it. Tessa could see Jean raise her hands to her temples, likely to telegraph a telepathic attack. 

 

Tessa wanted to signal Jean that no such thing would be possible, that it would be better to simply retreat but then- Tessa realized that there likely was no retreat to be had. She didn’t have the full context, but her gut suggested to her that this was some manner of final stand. That Erik was fighting together with one of the Xavier Institute students suggested that much. The colossus showed no particular reaction to her telepathic attack, but simply leapt forward with a burst of what looked like rockets emerging from his boots. 

 

The sight of what happened next transfixed Tessa with horror- she had seen many things in her time with Sebastian Shaw, men being tortured, men being killed- but nothing prepared her for the sight of a single gigantic fist curled around a woman’s body and crushing it completely, blood and other fluids dripping down out of the curled fist. Then he opened his fist and a red smear slowly sloughed off of his hand, only her costume and bits of red hair really recognizable as a human being, let alone an individual person. 

 

Tessa wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, to vomit everything she had ever eaten in her entire life, but she made herself watch.  _ I have to watch this. I have to let every second of it burn into my retinas and into my memory.  _ She knew that it would, that she would never forget a second of it, that she would eternally remember every bit of what was once a young woman smeared into and flow off of a gigantic hand. But then there was a light, another one and she looked up, the light so intense that she had to throw up a hand to shield her eyes. 

 

For a split second, she saw the bones through her hand it was so bright. It was impossible to make out the details but she knew what it meant.  _ The end of the world. It means the end of the world. Something is destroying our planet for allowing that thing to emerge.  _ She had to look away as the strange and hostile light bathed everything completely, except the colossal mutant, who looked up at it and laughed, the sound of the laughter rattling her entire body. 

 

A moment later, they were in the desert- Tessa was guessing that it was in Egypt by the pyramid that lay before them, excavated out of the desert sands, one that was fully equal in size to the Great Pyramid of Giza and better preserved, the shining limestone mostly intact, even the capstone of shimmering gold. She watched men and women buzzing around the tomb, working, cataloguing artifacts in a hurry. She glimpsed Irene for a moment. 

 

“I’m supposing we’re in the near future or possibly even the present.” Tessa walked down to where the action was- wondering what the relevance of this vision was right now, though she had a sneaking suspicion there was a link to the huge mutant that she’d seen laughing over the blazing ruin of the whole world. 

 

“I cannot say precisely, but it certainly seems so.” Irene replied, seemingly unphased by the horrible things they’d just seen, whereas Tessa knew that she was visibly losing her composure. 

 

“How can you see these things and remain so calm?” Tessa was struggling to control her shaking, even with her advanced ability to interface with her body. If Irene was troubled by the vision she’d just seen, she was not particularly letting it on. 

 

Irene turned towards her for a moment. “Because, dear, the only alternative would be to scream forever and completely abdicate reason. If I allow myself to crack, even a little bit, I will become forever and irretrievably mad.” She gestured over to what seemed to be a central hub of activity. Tessa walked over to where she saw, among other people, Sebastian and whom she presumed was the new Black Queen, a tall woman with a cruel smirk that seemed to be eternally on her lips, watching as a crane hoisted something out of the pyramid. 

 

When she saw it, her heart stopped- it was a sarcophagus, but larger than any sarcophagus she’d ever seen. It bore the unnatural, terrifying face of the titanic mutant who she had seen slay both Erik Lehnsherr and Jean Grey. And when the colossal sarcophagus was placed in front of Sebastian, he smiled. The expression on the Black Queen’s face, however, was one of outright glee.  _ She knows that he brings the apocalypse and she hungers for it.  _

 

“When is this happening?” Tessa asked tightly. 

 

“It’s hard to tell. Perhaps some years from now, but not too many. Perhaps even less than that.” Irene replied. 

 

“We need to figure out what we’re going to do about this.” Tessa had to figure out how to prevent this from coming to pass. 

 

“That’s a lovely thought, dear. We.” Irene laughed faintly, but it was a laughter that came only when the only alternative was to break down completely. “I can assure you that only one of us will be alive when this happens, if it happens. Long ago, I saw the precise time and place of my death, Tessa. It won’t be long now, I’m afraid.” 

 

Tessa didn’t know why that filled her with a sudden sense of sadness, but she knew that she would be very sorry when she heard of Irene’s death. “Perhaps it could be prevented. You see what may be, not what will be. We could figure out a way of preventing your death. Together.” 

 

Irene looked away suddenly and Tessa knew she was hiding something from her, something terrible. “I think we’ve seen enough for one day, Tessa. More than enough.” 

 


	25. Wanda IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Wanda have some PDA issues. 
> 
> Kurt has far more serious kidnapping issues. 
> 
> Raven is a super embarrassing parent. 
> 
> Note: Almost assuredly the rate of chapter publication is going to be dropping over the next bit as life heats up.

“I think we were originally going to watch a movie.” Wanda whispered into Kurt’s ear softly. “We are, technically speaking, in public.” It wasn’t as if Wanda really cared, deep down, that people saw them, but she knew that she’d found it annoying in the past when couples were too openly affectionate. The social contract did suggest that perhaps they waited until they got back to the car to continue. “Kuuurrrrt.” It was difficult to say his name, let alone to get him to stop- he’d found a very sensitive spot on her neck and she really didn’t want him to.

 

“Sorry …” Kurt most likely mistook Wanda’s half-hearted complaint for some indication that she no longer wanted to be making out and while she was happy that he was clearly very clued into consent culture, she didn’t really want him to stop doing that. All the same though, they were in a movie theatre and people were staring at them. “You’re much more beautiful than any of the girls in the movie.” He added and with other men she’d be tempted to think he was just making up bullshit to get into her panties, but Kurt didn’t operate on levels other than that of complete sincerity.

 

“I’m going to turn scarlet if you keep saying things like that.” Wanda whispered softly. “Absolutely scarlet and it will be your fault.” She emphasized the point by resting her head on his chest, which made it almost impossible for her to actually see the movie, but she found herself not caring whether she saw the movie or not.

 

“Shall I stop then?” Kurt whispered back with a playful tinge to his voice, because they both knew that he wouldn’t. That was part of the fun, really, that they could just bounce off of each other with a comfortableness that Wanda really couldn’t believe. He could handle her when she was angry and depressed, could handle her when she was a sarcastic snarkstress (her favorite mask) and she could even trust him with her softer side. He certainly had his dour moments as well, and he could sulk like a champion when he wanted to.

 

“I didn’t say that.” Wanda countered, her voice barely audible- Kurt would have got what she meant  by reading her lips more than hearing her- there was some incredibly loud sequence of explosions going on. “Is something exciting happening? Should I actually be watching?” To tell the truth, the movie hadn’t been as good as either of them were expecting. It had been a bit of a trend in their dates thus far in that the activity of the date seemed to almost inevitably be a letdown and yet, they always had fun anyway.

 

“No, you didn’t.” Kurt conceded with a smile as he wrapped an arm around her. “Do you want to pick something up on our way home? Maybe this time we won’t have important happenings intercept us at the diner.” He laughed softly- she knew that he had no resentment against Rogue, and really, neither did she. All the same, and as much as she kind of wanted to rush home and claim her fuzzy new boyfriend all for herself, she also felt distinctly hungry and a huge order of fries and a milkshake sounded like a very good idea.

 

It didn’t take long for the movie to finish and, unlike many of the people who were eagerly sitting in their seats waiting for the inevitable post-credits sequence- Kurt and Wanda pretty much instantly left the theatre and made their way towards the vehicle, though Wanda noted with some amusement that their progress would’ve been faster if they’d been capable of keeping their mouths off of each other for more than twenty seconds or so at a time. She was beginning to wonder if they’d ever actually make it to the diner or whether they’d decide to book it back home- Kurt would’ve known well by then that if Wanda decided to, she could drive like an absolute fiend.

 

They finally left the theatre, Kurt grasping her hand in his and practically bounding towards the car, fast enough that she was almost breathless by the time they crossed the parking lot- she knew pretty well that she was less than a spectacular athlete, being notoriously disinclined towards exercise. Even if she was an athletic girl like Jean or Kitty however, she’d have trouble keeping up with Kurt, who’d been a circus acrobat and not lost one bit of that athleticism.

 

All of which was a gentle way of getting around the idea that she _really_ liked watching him move, or really, even simply _be._ Wanda had pretty much never regarded his visible mutation as anything other than intriguing exotic details, but there were particular things that she especially loved. The feeling of impossibly soft velvety fur over hard, lean muscle. A tail that seemed to have a bit of a mind of its own. The gentle nip of his fangs.

 

 _I’m going to get myself way too worked up here. I have to actually drive home and not get us killed._ Wanda tried to think of spectacularly unsexy things for a moment, a sort of mental cold shower. Thinking about the national deficit and Danger Room training more or less did the trick. Meanwhile, Kurt had come around to open the door for her, because as well as being impossibly sexy, he was also an absolute gentleman. Such behaviour would rankle quickly if Wanda had any reason to believe it was anything less than sincere and that it didn’t imply any lack of disrespect.

 

It was then that she heard a quiet _thwip_ and Kurt immediately tense up and then, just as spectacularly, go completely limp. Stifling a cry of shock, she got out of the car and went over to him just in time to see a dark-haired man standing over them with a small gun in his hand.

 

“Don’t worry, love. He’ll be all right. Might not look like it, but it’s your lucky day.” The man spoke with a thick Irish accent as he pointed his gun at her again, but her powers were already working, and the gun jammed in his hands. The man curled his lip somewhat and threw it away, pulling out a baton from his hands and moving towards her quickly. “That was a bad move, love. This is going to hurt a lot more.” She gestured at him again and this time the baton flared and the man started twitching and screaming, electrocuted by the same charge that he was going to use on her.

 

That’s when she felt the earth shake beneath her as a mountain of a man barrelled down at her, his head hidden by a gigantic shining helmet- and in a horrible moment, she _knew_ who it was. Cain Marko. Uncle Charles’s unpleasant brother. Hoping that his reputation of being unstoppable was exaggerated, Wanda waved her hands at the ground around him and the asphalt bubbled and melted, becoming a horrifically hot pool of molten tar. It should have, at the least, stopped the man, caused him to start howling in agony, but even as the ground beneath it turned as vicious as quicksand, he kept moving, far slower, but trudging towards her.

 

Wanda tried to increase the power, to allow the chaotic energies that made up her mutation more comprehensively ruin things for this seeming juggernaut of a mutant, knowing that she should run, but not willing to abandon Kurt. She remembered, vaguely, that he’d been kidnapped once already not too long ago. It seemed like a cruel trick of the universe to do that again.

 

Then again, if Wanda knew one thing about the universe, it was that the universe was a cold, remorseless bitch.

 

Cain Marko had sunk deeper and deeper into the mire, but his head remained above the hot-tar laden quicksand she’d created and he was still advancing, slowly, but remorselessly. Wanda was trying to consider her options quickly when she heard another _thwip_ as whatever he’d shot Kurt with struck her in the back and she immediately felt all her muscles tense up completely, painfully, like a full-body cramp and then loosen as she sank to the ground.

 

When Wanda woke up, she had a raging headache and her vision was blurry- it took a minute or so for her to process where she was. She had been expecting to be secured by bars in a laboratory or at least tied to a chair in a dank warehouse or someone’s basement, but instead she found herself in what looked like a relatively normal room- more like a nicer variation on a college dorm than any real prison cell. _Kurt._ Fighting her headache and more than a little grogginess, she sat up and looked around, only to find Kurt sitting on the floor not more than five feet from her.

 

“I have not, as of yet found any way out. My teleportation does not work in here.” Kurt looked a touch groggy himself, but she imagined he was doing a little better than she was. He managed to chuckle a little sardonically. “I seem to attract kidnappings on a regular basis.” Kurt looked a little more serious for a moment. “There is a note addressed to you on the table. I haven’t read it yet, though I probably would have attempted to if you hadn’t woken up when you did. I think I recognize the writing on the front of it, though.”

 

Wanda looked over to see an envelope neatly placed on the counter by the bed and she recognized the handwriting instantly. _Father. Of course. He was the one who hired Cain and … the other man must have been Black Tom. He wanted me out of the way so he could do what he wanted with the others. And Kurt, well, his girlfriend’s kid._ Wanda wondered where that left Rogue, but the toxin that they’d used on Kurt and Wanda would have no effect on Rogue, unless the dart was made out of pure adamantium.

 

Wanda picked up the note.

 

_Wanda,_

 

_I understand that you will be angry with me about this, but there is no other way I can protect you. I know that I have not always been the best father-_

 

Wanda wanted to tear it to shreds right then and maybe trash the room and after that, maybe cry, because of course he would write something to try and justify kidnapping her. She could imagine his arch, condescending voice speaking down at her like she was a tiny girl. Pietro tended to be ignored or disdained, he tended to imagine her as a wan reflection of himself, an amusing specimen to be indulged when possible and gently restrained when not.

 

_Please understand, however, that this is about the destiny of the world. I know that, deep down, you know that Charles is tilting at windmills. That the notion of peace in our time is a terrible lie. I hope that one day soon you will be able to be at my side when we build a new and better world, but in the meantime, I can at least ensure your safety._

 

_Love, your father_

 

_PS- I do not know Kurt as well as I would like to, but he seems to be a promising young man. He is, of course, welcome in my movement as well._

 

The entire letter was written in Hebrew, no doubt so that Kurt couldn’t have read it- it reminded her of all the times when her and Pietro were younger and they’d converse in Hebrew, so that no one else would know what they were saying. She set aside the letter and looked up at Kurt.

 

“Apparently putting us here together was your mother’s idea.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess that probably speaks volumes about them right there. This letter is trying to appeal to my ideals and … that’s probably a fridge full of beer in there. Your Mom clearly thinks that you won’t mind being kidnapped if you’re in here with me.”

 

Kurt couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Well, it does remove the sting a little.” His expression turned a little more serious, though. “There has to be a way out of here.” He rubbed at his temples for a moment. “In maybe another half hour or so, when whatever they dosed us with is more out of our system, we’re going to very thoroughly look for a way out.”

 

Wanda nodded, taking a look around the room for a moment herself- it looked well-lit and comfortable, but there were no windows or large vents. There was a singular door, but it was extremely thick and strong. Kurt was impressively powerful, but she didn’t think for a second he was going to be able to batter his way out of there. “Nice of my fucking father to build us a comfortable prison cell-” She moved over to the drawer and opened it.

 

What Wanda saw in there, despite the sheer awfulness of the situation, made her laugh, because even though she knew little indeed about Kurt’s mother, this fitted what she’d known about her perfectly. Of course, she’d leave condoms and a huge variety of other sex supplies. On one level, of course, it offended her gravely, but on the other hand, she really couldn’t help but be endlessly amused by it. There was a note on the inside as well as she handed it over to Kurt.

 

Kurt took the note with a slight raised eyebrow and read it.

 

“I know you’re going to try anyway, but you’re not going to escape from this room. When the dust has settled a bit, you two can go and do whatever you want. In the meantime, you might as well have some fun.”

 

Kurt looked up at Wanda. “What’s in the drawer?”

 

It was Wanda’s turn to raise her eyebrow. “Oh no. I want you to guess.”

 

“I have a feeling that I know what’s in there.” Kurt replied, his eyebrow raised again at her. “That drawer is full of condoms, isn’t it?” It was impossible to know for certain, given Kurt’s extremely dark blue fur, but it was easy for Wanda to surmise that he was blushing pretty hard. “What else is in there?” Wanda honestly felt a little bad for being so amused, because he was clearly embarrassed half to death.

 

“Uhh, massage oil, a couple of different kinds of lube. And a _lot_ of condoms. Four boxes of them. So, who’s got the more awful parent? What’s worse, arch condescension or just … plain embarrassment?” Wanda shook her head and then took a breath. “Okay. We’re going to look for a way to get out of here. Seriously. But … in the meantime, if there’s a bottle of chilled bubbly in the fridge …”

 

“I don’t think she’s much into champagne.” Kurt replied and picked himself off of the floor to go towards the fridge, opening it up to reveal a useful selection of easily heatable foods- Wanda could see a microwave in their little room. There were also two twelve-packs of beer and at least four or five bottles of wine in there.

 

Practically dying of curiosity now, Wanda opened up the second drawer to reveal rolling papers and a sizeable bag of weed. _Well, if I didn’t give a fuck about anything other than myself, this would be a pretty ideal setup, wouldn’t it._ They needed to find a way to escape, though. Kurt was already on his feet, examining the walls and fighting off the residual effects of the drug that had knocked her flat, she went over to start helping. The room looked pretty much perfectly sealed to her, but she was certain there was some way around it.

 

“There hasn’t been a trap or a prison created that couldn’t be escaped.” Kurt said with a small, encouraging smile. “At least we do not have to worry about dehydration or starvation in the meantime.”

 

“Or unsafe sex.” Wanda added with a faint smirk as she combed over the walls. If she had access to her abilities, she may have been able to figure a way out- then again, if Kurt did, he could probably simply have teleported out. Kurt seemed to believe, though, that there was a way out and Wanda knew she’d probably simply have to take it on faith herself.


	26. Scott VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mansion comes under attack! 
> 
> The Juggernaut, Black Tom and the Brotherhood of Mutants, OH MY

“I just talked to Pietro.” Scott tried to disguise whatever disdain he had for that. “He hasn’t seen Wanda or Kurt, but he was acting really evasively. Something’s up. Raven’s apparently out- whatever that means.” It seemed strange that he could just dial up people who were looking more and more like their enemies. “I’m suspicious as hell. Did you guys find anything in the city? Dad can’t get a read on them with Cerebro.” 

 

“Caught their scent at the theatre. Went cold in the parking lot.” Logan commented. “Found a big mess there too. Looked like someone melted the asphalt and did something strange with a bunch of the ground underneath. Talked to some people around, sounds like there was a struggle.” Logan frowned. “Damn kid’s gotta stop getting himself into trouble.” 

 

“They weren’t getting themselves into trouble.” Scott pointed out. “Kurt and Wanda were going on a date. To a movie theatre.” 

 

Betsy interrupted before an argument could start. “I looked inside a few people’s memories while Logan was examining the site. Two attackers, one had a gun and some sort of taser or cattle prod. The other was a very, very large man. Apparently Wanda did that to the parking lot surface to stop him, but it failed. Perhaps it was Xavier’s long-lost brother and his friend.”

 

“I can’t imagine it’d be anyone other than Cain.” Scott then turned towards Logan. “Logan, you said the trail went cold? Did anyone see where the car went?” 

 

“Colder than a polar vortex.” Logan replied. “Musta treated the car they took `em in or something. And the people didn’t know where they were going.” 

 

“Damn it.” Scott forced himself to take a deep breath. “Until we get any indication otherwise, we’re going to have to assume that Raven and Pietro know about what’s going on, fully. Which is strange, because she’s his  _ mother.  _ Why would she want to kidnap him? And Wanda’s Erik’s daughter.” 

  
“Unless they’re tryin’ ta keep their kids safe.” Logan’s gaze turned towards Scott. “They’re sending something our way and they want to make sure their kids are out of it. Rogue just hasn’t left the Mansion yet. Besides, she’s not exactly easily kidnapped.” 

 

“Lovely. I feel like we’re in a regular bloody War of the Roses here.” Betsy sighed slightly. “I suppose we continue looking in the city? Perhaps someone can be bribed or threatened into revealing something. If it’s Erik or Raven’s doing, they probably aren’t too far from here.” 

 

The discussion was, however, interrupted by the buzzer at the front door.  _ There’s nobody scheduled to arrive. Could just be a delivery, though.  _ Sighing harshly, Scott pressed the button that showed the video of a man standing outside of a van, with a package in his hand. “Who is it?” His annoyance probably showed through somewhat, but he didn’t care too much. 

 

“Delivery for Charles Xavier.” The man at the door replied, a tall and lean man with dark hair and a notable scar under his eye. Something about the look of him instantly put Scott at unease. Then the man smiled. “Two deliveries actually.” The moment the man smiled that cruel, cruel smile into the camera, Scott knew that something terrible was going to happen immediately. 

 

“Erik Lehnsherr sends his regards.” The voice cheerfully added before the van roared to life and charged towards the gates at full speed, knocking aside the iron bars and hurtling towards the front door.  _ That’s either a battering ram or a bomb,  _ Scott realized instantly. 

 

Scott knew there wasn’t a second to waste. “Betsy, telepathic alert. Get everyone down into the sublevels.” He opened the door and removed his glasses as quickly as he could to issue out the most powerful optic blast he could. So many times, he’d thought that the long walk up from the gates to the door was an annoyance. Today, he was truly thankful for it. His optic blast caught the speeding truck in the middle of its approach as a terrific explosion rocked the grounds. 

 

Thankfully, the overwhelming force of his optic blast redirected the shrapnel mostly away from him and the Mansion itself. The man had scampered away the bomb had gone off, but Logan was after him already.  _ But if that’s Black Tom, then where’s Cain?  _ The thought was finished for him by the sound of enormous rumbling steps and then a terrific crash followed by a scream as one of the solid brick walls of the Xavier Institute collapsed like wet paper against the force Marko could bring to bear against it. 

 

“Betsy.” Scott looked towards her. “Have you alerted everyone?” 

 

“Yes.” Betsy replied. “Don’t know if everyone’s got the hint, though. We’ve got as many people angling for a closer view as running away.” 

 

“I’ll yell at them later. We might need all the help we can get.” Scott recognized the voice as belonging to the new girl, Jubilee. He started running towards where he heard the scream, encountering Piotr along the way, who was already armoured up.  _ If we’ve got anyone who can tangle with Marko, it’s him,  _ Scott thought, but deep down, he doubted it. He doubted anyone could defeat Marko by themselves.

 

_ Cain’s mind is blocked to me somehow. The barrier feels physical. I believe he’s wearing some sort of shielding. Perhaps it could be removed …  _

 

Scott knew that he might very much regret the next decision he made- but given the situation and the abilities of the people in question, he felt he had little choice.  _ Jean. Where are you?  _ He hated to call on her, wanted her to be safe, but also knew they needed her abilities. No barrier would stop Marko. They needed to put him down. He figured Logan could probably handle Black Tom on his own. 

 

_ Coming to where you are,  _ Jean replied.  _ Should I sharply tell Kitty to get downstairs or do you think we’re going to need her?  _

 

Scott knew it would probably come down to this- they didn’t have a lot of adult people on the site. They’d have little choice but to get all the students involved.  _ Get Ororo to whip up a storm, Jean. Bring Kitty down, we might need her. Bobby too. Hank needs to get Dad to safety. He can do it as quickly as anyone can. He’s only unstoppable when he’s in motion, so we need to keep him confused. Get him out of the building as soon as possible and there Ororo and Bobby can be more effective.  _

 

This time he heard a cry of surprise from a much deeper male voice and saw, to his immense relief, a clearly terrified but basically unhurt Jubilee. 

 

“Safe my ass! This big fucking creep just plowed through the wall and tried to grab me, so I got him in the face with my sparklies! Motherfucker’s still going, though!” Jubilee exclaimed, speaking with incredible rapidity. “Logan said this would be a safe place? What the hell? I would’ve been better off at the fuckin’ mall.” Scott found her frequent profanity to be annoying, but this wasn’t the time. 

 

“Get downstairs. We’ll wash that awful mouth of yours out with soap later.” Betsy smirked at Jubilee and Scott swore that she gave him a bit of a wink- he wasn’t quite sure how to take it. Jubilee, thankfully, got the hint and started scrambling downstairs just as yet another wall exploded in front of them, Scott quickly deflecting the worst of the rubble with an optic blast. 

 

“Hey, just the little brat I was looking for.” Cain Marko leered down at Scott as he stroke into the hallway where they were at. “And who’s the lady with you? Little out of your league, there.” Scott swallowed the reptile urge to run. Every moment that Cain stood there and taunted him was one in which they could coordinate a defense hastily. Significantly, essentially, he was also standing still. 

Scott took off his glasses and blasted Cain as hard as he could before he got the idea to start moving. The optic blast hurtled him out of the building, though it tore out another big chunk of the walls. Before Cain could recover, Scott popped out of the hole in the walls and blasted him again, sending him flying. As soon as that happened, Jean and Kitty had appeared by his side, with a rather intimidated-looking Bobby in tow. Gathering clouds outside suggested that Ororo was active too. 

 

Jean passed Scott his visor and he slipped it on quickly. “Bobby. Make lots of ice barriers. Ororo’s going to be making some rain, so you should have lots of moisture to work with. Jean, stay ready to yank people out of harm’s way if need be. You’re telepathic, but we need your telekinesis just as much. Kitty, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but he’s wearing, it looks like it’s his helmet. See if you can get it off.” 

 

Kitty didn’t need any other prompting and was immediately going towards him, running at an impressive rate as Cain slowly started getting up. “Piotr! Get out here! Try to keep him tied up. Don’t assume you can take him down, just keep him in more or less the same area.” 

 

Piotr bounded down, grabbing an ornamental boulder and hurling it at Cain just as he started to get up. Scott didn’t figure it would actually do any damage, but the kinetic force of it would be enough to knock him down again. Unfortunately, however, the way that Cain was standing made the boulder simply break around him. He bounded forward, which meant that Scott’s optic blast would only slow him down. 

 

Cain hit the ground running- the worst possible of all outcomes. Scott had no choice but to jump out of the way, feeling a distinct pain in his ankle as he landed heavily on the ground.  _ Damn it.  _ It wasn’t excruciating, he probably had just rolled it rather than sprained it or broken anything, but he couldn’t stand to have any impediment to his motion. Piotr tried to tackle him from the side, but now that he was moving, it simply meant that Piotr was hanging onto him. Piotr’s hands scrabbled for the edge of his helmet. 

 

That made Cain stop for a moment. “You’re not getting your grubby little hands on this, tinman!” He sneered and grabbed Piotr and hurled him, well over a hundred feet into a stand of trees. Immediately, however, Cain was hit by a bolt of lightning, which temporarily paralyzed his muscles. Scott blasted him again, but this time, he was aiming for the connection of the helmet to the rest of his outfit. It looked like it had been slightly cracked. Scott blasted him again, maintaining the blast now to keep him on the ground. 

 

“Kitty! Get on him, now!” Scott hoped that the concentrated concussive force of his blasts would be enough to keep him pinned for a few moments, struggling to breathe under its force. He couldn’t turn his blasts on or off, but he could control, to a great extent, how powerful or weak they were. He turned up the power as hard as he could get and slowly, remorselessly, Cain began to sink into the ground. 

 

Kitty Pryde gamely leapt onto him and despite his attempt with his arms to bat at her, she was phased and he couldn’t touch her.  _ Thank heaven for small favors, Scott thought. Jean, tell Dad and Betsy to get ready. Both of them. Our chance is going to come soon. I hope.  _ He could see Kitty’s fingers reach around the helmet and though he couldn’t hear her, something was going wrong. She looked weirdly pale and was gritting her teeth. 

 

He realized that the helmet was probably adamantium, the same material that Logan’s skeleton was made out of- and that she was reacting to it as she had before. “Kitty, stop it, you’re going to get yourself-” But right as she said it, she took off the helmet triumphantly and ran a short distance before dropping it and collapsing onto the ground.  _ Jean. Betsy. Dad. All hands on deck. Give him everything you have now.  _

 

Just as that happened, Cain’s fingers began wrapping around the ground around him and Scott knew he was getting ready to launch himself out of the pit he was slowly being blasted into. “Bobby! Ororo! Ice! Hail! Cover him!” Quickly, Cain was virtually entombed in a combination of hail and sleet which Bobby reformed instantly into an icy shell. He could see, though, that it wouldn’t hold for long. Cain’s muscles were twitching inside the icy prison. It might have even simply been shivering. 

 

But it would break him out soon enough. 

 

Just as the cracks became too wide and Cain was able to get his arms back in position to launch himself up, however, the mental attacks must have come and, first, Cain was not screaming or yelling, but whimpering. “Please, Daddy. Please. Leave me alone. Why … why do you always hit me? And never hit Charles? Daddy, please!” Cain looked up at Scott and no matter how much Scott feared and loathed the man, he couldn't help but feel pity. 

 

_ Inside the heart of every bully is a wounded child.  _ Scott remembered being told that by the director of the orphanage where he’d lived, a kindly old man who would sometimes give him sweets around holidays. It had been Dr. Michael Milbury who’d quietly contacted Charles Xavier about the lonely, sullen boy with the strange disability, no doubt in hopes that Charles could find a cure for his affliction. He’d always been skeptical of that line, but seeing Cain right now, it seemed to ring all too true. 

 

It wasn’t long before Cain slumped to the ground, sobbing almost silently, before going completely unconscious. 

 

The sound that Scott heard next, however, was one that he was certain he’d never forget as long as he lived, it was a deafening noise, the tearing of metal. He looked up only to see his father lifted right out of the sub-basements of the Mansion where he’d been and carried by an unseen force out of it.  _ It was just a distraction.  _ Scott fumed as he started running in the direction that Charles was going. 

 

_ Scott … don’t … he won’t hurt me.  _

 

_ I can’t let him take you.  _

 

The earth started to shake violently underneath him, hard enough to bring him to his knees. He looked up to see a young man in a slightly ersatz costume, his eyes rolled back up into his head as if in a strange ecstasy, directing the tremors, which were knocking everyone to the ground. Scott tried his best to get off a blast, but he was completely incapable of aiming and the blast went off. 

 

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to hurt the Professor. Uncle Erik just needs to borrow him for a bit.” A snarky voice in Australian piped up as a huge wall of flames seperated Scott from both his father and from the others standing on the hill. “I know this sounds really strange coming from us, but we’re not actually the enemy here. Stay down and let us go and nobody’s going to get hurt.” 

 

“Scott.” He heard Pietro over across from the flames. “We mean it. I’m not going to let anyone hurt the Professor.” 

 

“So we should take hiring a man who’s known to have a homicidal hatred of him to attack us as a friendly gesture? Get your head out of your ass, Pietro and actually think about something for yourself for once.” Scott forced himself to get up, even though the tremors were still going, bracing himself. “Hostile actions get hostile responses.” 

 

“Kurt and Wanda are safe too. They’re safe and they’ll be able to go back wherever they want to go. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be. Nobody really wants this fight but we can’t have the Professor-”

 

“Is that how you shut your feelings out of it?”  _ Jean. Get Ororo to bring a torrent down. Someone’s a pyrokinetic in this lot and I want them shut down. Get Bobby to throw up a barrier. Once I can see straight, I’m going to try and take out whoever’s shaking the ground so much. Piotr?  _

 

_ Piotr’s fine. He’s on the other side of the fire. He can’t see the Professor, though.  _

 

_ Good. Kitty. Where’s Hank? Get him up here and get him to take a look at Kitty.  _

 

Scott looked over to where she was- Kitty was certainly breathing and she was conscious after a fashion, but he didn’t like how shaky she was.  _ Definitely in shock. Moderate shock, at least.  _ She was trying to get back up and get into the fight, but her legs failed her. 

 

“You’ve done your job, Kitty. Take it easy. We can handle the rest of these goons.” 

 

The rain kicked up and a pall of smoke filled the grounds as the flaming wall and the torrents that Ororo could command did battle.  _ Jean, get ready to shield people as needed. Keep coordinating. Get Betsy to stay somewhere safe and keep telepathic eyes out. I don’t want anyone slipping in.  _

 

_ What about Rogue?  _

 

_ I guess we find out who’s side she’s really on. We can’t lock her down, anyway. Tell everyone to stick to non-lethal. I want at least one of them conscious and able to talk. I’m through with talking, though.  _

 

Scott allowed himself to channel his power in a huge, wide-arc optic blast that effortlessly punched through the flames. He heard several cries of surprise from that as people were knocked down. With an arc that wide, Scott doubted he did much damage, but the trembling of the earth stopped and the flames seemed to have the life taken out of them. 

 

“Let’s get these bastards off our lawn.” 


	27. Rogue IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Rogue encounters her mother deep in the bowels of the Institute. It's not nice. 
> 
> Also, apparently I really like writing Rogue? Girl's got nine chapters so far, y'alls. And I am not sorry.

“I was pretty sure we were supposed to go into the basements. The nice doctor with the blue fur was telling us that.” Longshot didn’t seem like he was upset about it, though, but then again, Rogue didn’t think that Longshot seemed upset about very much of anything. She’d almost never met anyone quite so optimistic in her life- it was something that, somewhat to her surprise, she found more charming than frustrating. 

 

“They’re saying that because they don’t trust me.” Rogue sighed. She honestly couldn’t blame them for not trusting her- for all they knew, she was some sort of agent that had been planted there to attack them from the inside. “We’re going to check on the hangar. If I was gonna try and neutralize these folks, I’d take out their fancy plane first. My Momma can look like anyone, but I’m banking on the fact that she can’t keep hidden from me.” 

 

“I trust you.” Longshot actually stopped for a moment and put his hand gently on her arm. She flinched for a moment, but she was amply covered by the sleeve- and she knew, deep down, that he’d never for a second be some sort of emotionally manipulative creep. It didn’t take a long time to realize that if Longshot said something, he meant precisely that. “The other people will trust you too, when they know you better.” 

 

“Thank you.” Rogue replied. “It’s … that’s nice. But if you’re going to insist on coming with me, come on. Why are you, anyway? You don’t have to do anything here. Could go in the secure rooms with the nice doctor with the blue fur.” She had the feeling that he wasn’t set up to be able to do that, though. It was hard to know precisely what was natural and what had been programmed into him by the evil men back in Murderworld, but either way- Rogue betted he was about as capable of sitting back and doing nothing as she was. Which was to say, not at all. 

 

“Dr. McCoy’s there because someone has to watch over the big guy’s mom and sister and in case someone gets hurt and needs help. I’m not really needed there, but maybe I’ll be needed here. I mean, maybe not- you are kind of stronger, faster and tougher than I’ll ever be. But I’m lucky sometimes and I learned in Murderworld, that a bit of luck never, ever hurts.” Longshot looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, actually, sometimes, luck did hurt, but it was getting hurt instead of being killed, so you take what you can get.” 

 

Rogue would probably have laughed if she wasn’t such a ridiculous emotional ferment at the moment. She suspected that her Momma was going to be in here and that it was likely that they’d run into each other. They hadn’t talked since she’d come to the Institute and she didn’t know where things stood there. Maybe Momma was just giving her distance. Maybe she was angry. Rogue couldn’t blame her for being angry, but then, so was she. 

 

“None of this makes sense.” She muttered to herself, though it was certainly loud enough for Longshot to hear. “These people helped her and she’s attacking them. And we should be trying to stop wars instead of trying to start them.” All of this stank of an effort at a preemptive strike. Rogue wasn’t much of a tactician, that seemed to be more Scott’s thing, but she knew that it was a dangerous game making enemies out of people who weren’t, might have even been friends. 

 

In great part, it was an emotional calculation, but it was also a matter of looking at things logically. Even if Rogue put herself with her Momma and the kids at the House, they just didn’t have the firepower to take on the people at the Institute, not without Erik Lehnsherr directly at their side. As for the mercenaries that Momma had hired for Erik, she hoped they went down hard. Cain Marko was a bully and Tom Cassidy was a terrorist. And truth be told, the more that Rogue learned about Erik, the more baffled she was that Momma loved him.  _ I know that love makes people blind, though. But this is stupid, and wrong.  _

_   
_ _ And to Erik Lehnsherr, we’re just pawns on a board.  _ She could vaguely hear the sounds of fighting outside- and then a horrific sound, like a vastly magnified version of nails on a chalkboard as, assuredly, part of the metallic shell that covered the lower levels as stripped away.  _ He’s here.  _ And Rogue knew in her heart that she should probably have gone out and tried to fight him- but her head knew that she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell. 

 

“We gotta get to the jet. Quick!” And with that, Rogue abandoned all pretense of civility, opting to simply plow through the barriers that kept her out of the hangar- she didn’t have any of the passwords needed, but there was little or nothing they could do to stop her. She knocked down the final door and stopped there for a moment, fixed to the ground. It looked like Scott was there, but she knew that he was outside. 

 

If it had been anyone else, Rogue was sure that Momma would have ran or attacked, but she just stood there, for a stretch of ten seconds that felt like an eternity. Then, Momma dropped the disguise and she stood there, staring at Rogue, just about every emotion registering on her face, though none of them truly reached her yellow-luminescent eyes, just like always. Rogue wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to hug her Momma, wanted to run. 

 

She didn’t. 

 

“Why?” Momma asked, her voice full of disbelief, shock, anger and sadness. “Why did you leave me? What did I ever do to you? And why come here, of all places? If you didn’t want anything to do with this, you could have gone back to Mississippi. But you left.” Raven took a breath. It was as if Longshot wasn’t even in the room, as if there wasn’t a huge jet sitting right there next to them. 

 

“Because what you’re doing is wrong.” The words hurt so much that it was hard to muster the breath to force them out and the tears were already flowing. “These people helped us. They risked a great deal and they helped bring you home and you’re repaying them with, what? Attacking them in their own house. Kids live here, Momma. There’s a twelve-year old girl who lives here. Did you think about that when you hired a  _ terrorist? _ ” 

 

“If you want me to admit that what I’m doing isn’t good, than sure. This isn’t a good thing. But it’s necessary. These people are deluded and they think that peace is possible, but I know it isn’t. I’ve seen this happen before. I was there in Berlin when no one stood up against the rising wave of hatred and look what happened. It’s all happening again, Rogue. Don’t fool yourself for a moment that you can negotiate with these people.” Raven practically snarled at Rogue and she found herself genuinely shaken by the tone in her voice. The rage, and the deep-seated pain that lay just underneath it. 

 

“You’re not fighting hatred, though, Momma, you’re feeding it. I’m all for defending ourselves, Momma, but this isn’t defence. I remember you talking to me about when you found out about Erik’s plan to intimidate the Professor. How you’d rip his danged balls off! And here you are, bringing terror and violence in a place where children are living and learning, where people who desperately need a safe place are trying to be safe. 

 

What if someone  _ dies,  _ Momma?” Rogue spoke, quietly but firmly, refusing to budge, refusing to wipe away her tears. Let her Momma see her cry.  _ Sometimes tears aren’t weakness. You can’t cry without a heart.  _

 

“This is war and war is messy and people die.” Momma replied. “And if you’re going to stop me, then get on with it.” Her eyes, normally almost emotionless blazed with an angry luminescence. She too, refused to budge. Her hand was on a gun in her holster, but she didn’t draw it. 

 

Rogue took a deep breath. “Just walk away from this. Why can’t you just walk away, why can’t you just leave Erik and walk away? Those kids in the House, they adore you. You’re almost as much a Momma to them as you are to me. Is Erik out there, fightin’ with them? Is he?” 

Raven didn’t say anything in response, nor did she do anything. To Rogue, the silence was deafening and what was more, it was  _ damning.  _ Rogue was smart enough to know that if Erik were around, the arithmetic of the situation would change completely. Then her Momma and the kids at the House would likely walk away winners rather than losers. 

 

Rogue didn’t have a whole lot of respect for Erik Lehnsherr as a man, a respect that seemed to be dimmed day by day, but she knew that he was powerful and skilled in a way that none of the others were. Maybe Cain Marko was super tough, but he also looked about as smart as a sack of off-brand bricks. She knew the kids at the House pretty well and she knew that they’d go out here more out of loyalty to ‘Mama Raven’ than to any cause. 

 

Rogue also knew that they’d get absolutely creamed. Logan was a hardened soldier, Scott a natural tactician, Ororo and Jean and Wanda all immensely powerful, Kitty almost ridiculously fierce. She was kinda glad that Kitty didn’t have her powers, because Rogue thought she’d be utterly terrifying with the super strength and invulnerability. That was one girl who liked to fight, who clearly had a lot of anger in her life. 

 

“Walk away, Momma. Walk away and we’ll let you go.” Rogue finally looked over at Longshot, who nodded gravely. 

 

“And what does your friend think of this situation?” Raven asked, with a sneer on her face that Rogue did not like one bit. The situation was uncomfortable for her, so she was reaching out to hurt anyone she can. It was something that deeply disappointed Rogue. No child ever wanted to think badly of a parent, but right now, Rogue was oscillating between anger and disgust at what her Momma was doing. 

 

“I think it’s really rude to attack people who helped you. And I think you’d better take that chance to walk away because I wouldn’t be giving it to you. You don’t deserve it.” Longshot’s almost unnaturally blue eyes looked evenly at Raven. “I think you’d better look really hard at the fact that your daughter, who is totally awesome, is so dead set against what you’re doing.” 

 

Rogue felt an absurd, but very real twinge of anger at Longshot saying that her Momma didn’t deserve the chance, but she had to admit, even with Raven being her Momma, that she’d done an awful, awful thing. She probably  _ didn’t  _ deserve the chance. But Rogue had to give her the opportunity. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t. It was something she never expected anyone else to understand. 

 

“Then it’s a standoff. Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to start sabotaging this airplane and you’re going to have to stop me, or walk away, or help me do it. You keep insisting you’re a grown woman.” With a swift moment, Raven hopped up onto the wing of the airplane. “So, Rogue, are you going to stop me?” She pulled out some sort of device that looked like a bomb, but before she could apply it, a perfectly aimed knife knocked it out of her hand. 

 

“Yeah, not going to happen.” Longshot said with a determination in his voice that belied his usual cheerfulness. Momma reached for her gun, but in a second, Rogue was on her. It was strange, how utterly futile her struggles were- Rogue knew she was hundreds of times stronger than Momma was. Momma realized that and stopped, but the look her Momma gave her instead was one that Rogue was certain she’d never forget. 

 

Rogue could only hope that it was just extreme anger, but it honestly looked like hatred. The thought broke her heart and her anger and disgust dissolved into a terrible sadness. 

 

“Longshot, go and get Hank and whoever else is down there and see if we’ve got a holding cell or something.” She grabbed Momma and lifted her up in her arms, and set her down on the ground. Longshot obediently ran off and Rogue was left with Momma, alone. 

 

“You could still walk away.” Rogue pleaded, tears streaming openly down her face. “I’d even take you back to the house or anywhere else you wanted to go.” She held on as gently as she could, conscious of her strength, but also needing, absurdly, a reminder that Momma was right there and not a million miles away like it seemed. A ridiculous part of her, that part that had never quite stopped being a scared, lonely little girl, wanted to pretend that everything was going to be all right, that she was holding Momma, not restraining her. 

 

“If you think I’m going to walk away, you don’t know me very well.” Momma replied, and she was right and the knowledge of that broke Rogue’s heart all over again. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common.” Normally Momma would say that with a little grin, but it was all far too real for Rogue to take even the tiniest bit of comfort in it. Neither of them were going to walk away from the situation they’d got themselves into and Rogue didn’t know what that meant for their future. 

 

“If this is some really clever double agent plan you’re thinking up, now’s the time to say it.” Momma was trying, she was reaching in her own way for the unlikeliest of possibilities. She was trying desperately to lighten the moment, maybe the anger had passed a bit. More than anything, Momma sounded tired in a way that she virtually never did. Her eyes closed for a second and Rogue could see tears slowly run down Momma’s face too. “They’ve done something to you.” Momma was clearly grasping at whatever straws they could. “They’ve done something to your mind.” Momma was trying to convince herself that it wasn’t really her daughter that was doing this, that there was a nefarious plot at work. 

 

“Why can’t you just walk away?” Rogue asked again, facing her own desperate moment of crisis. Maybe she could take Momma back to the House- she could do it easily, whether Momma wanted to go or not. But she wasn’t going anywhere, Rogue wasn’t flying, couldn’t seem to lift herself off.  _ I’m afraid that if I let go, I’m never gonna see Momma again. I try to convince myself I’m so dang brave, but look at me. I’m just as scared and dumb as anybody.  _

 

It took only a few minutes for a very grave-looking Hank McCoy to come and take her away. Momma turned to look at her one last time as she was lead down to what she presumed would be a holding cell. Rogue had thought a moment ago that nothing could be worse than that glare of white-hot rage Momma had given her only a moment ago. 

 

Momma was crying now and not fighting, and that was a million times worse. 

 


	28. Logan VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan pursues Black Tom Cassidy. 
> 
> Piotr's mom makes a reappearance. 
> 
> A significant villain is teased. 
> 
> Some fairly significant violence in this chapter and a lot of foul language if you're not into that sort of thing.

Whoever this bastard was, he could run pretty fast and he seemed to have the basics of evading capture down- not going straight, taking surprising detours and even demonstrating some familiarity with parkour. It didn’t matter, though. Logan just had to keep his scent. This guy couldn’t outrun Logan- Logan wasn’t incredibly fast as a sprinter, but he could keep up a good running pace for at least several hours. He’d never win an Olympic 100-meter dash, but he’d easily win any marathon that ever happened. 

 

_ Only question is if it’s worth it to find the guy.  _ Logan could answer that question easily- the sick fuck had literally driven a van bomb into a school. The actual question was more what Logan would do with him when he caught him. His initial urge was to put the bastard- Black Tom Cassidy, he assumed, six feet under, but he might have some useful information. Logan decided that he wasn’t going to kill him yet and nowhere, for sure, where the kids could see him. 

 

Logan wouldn’t kill Black Tom Cassidy, at least not in the immediate future, but he sure as hell wanted to. Summers had managed to more or less stop his little bomb stunt with a timely optic blast, but Logan knew that could have done a hell of a lot of damage if Summers hadn’t been so quick on the draw. He had to admit, he was fairly impressed with the kid for thinking so fast. Not many eighteen-year old punks would’ve done anything other than shit themselves. Kid was still annoying as hell sometimes, but Logan could’ve done a hell of a lot worse for a comrade in arms. 

 

Had done a lot worse, as a matter of fact. Logan couldn’t place the name, but he remembered a big, handsome man with glittering blue eyes and a cold, fanged smile, who didn’t kill because it was orders or for any greater good- but because he liked to watch the light go out of people’s eyes. An image flashed through his mind of-  _ Creed,  _ he remembered suddenly, of Creed standing over some young woman who had died and licking his lips. He remembered disgustedly asking Creed if he wanted to fuck the corpse or eat it. Creed had just looked at him and smiled, and the memory of that smile made his skin crawl. 

 

On the other hand, Logan had fought alongside Captain America, so he’d really fought alongside the best and the worst.  _ Summers would probably have a heart attack if he ever saw Cap.  _ Logan wondered how he himself would react- Cap would remember him perfectly, Logan’s memories were a lot more fuzzy. But it was hard to forget Captain America, a man who embodied everything that people wanted America to be. Logan couldn’t help but admire a man who combined courage and compassion so effortlessly.  _ Wonder what the guy thinks of the world today.  _

 

Logan’s nose wrinkled for a moment as a slight shift in the wind brought him the smell of Black Tom. His claws popped out of instinct as he started a steady jog- thankfully the streets of the business area of Salem Center was almost deserted. After a moment or so, however, he stopped. Slightly to his surprise, Black Tom Cassidy had stopped running. He came around from the back of a van- probably his actual vehicle. Logan immediately dove for cover as Black Tom shot at him. From the steady bursts, Logan was guessing it was an assault rifle.  _ Amateur hour.  _ Logan started moving as quickly as he could towards Tom, in a zigzag, knowing that he’d eat at least a few rounds. 

 

The bullets hurt like an absolute motherfucker, but his adamantium-reinforced skull and ribcage effectively protected him from the worst of the damage to vital organs. A bullet in his guts hurt worse than the others, but the danger from being gutshot was over time, from infection, and Logan wasn’t worried about that. He kept moving and as he got closer, he could smell fear on Black Tom. Logan’s claws flashed just as Black Tom dropped his weapon, and swiftly drew what looked like, for all the world a fucking shillelagh, like the most obvious kind of Irish stereotype. 

 

_ You hit me with six rounds from an M-16. Think a wooden stick’s gonna do jackshit to me? You’re dumber than you look.  _

 

But just as he was over Tom Cassidy and ready to deliver a blow, a gigantic gout of flame erupted from the shillelagh, flames that burned like napalm and hit like a colossal battering ram, with the concussive force of a grenade. The force of it was enough to knock him out of the air and send him landing on a nearby parked car. He could feel his flesh bubbling and melted from the impact. The skin of almost half his torso was totally gone, burned to ash and the muscles underneath would’ve looked more like well-done steak than human flesh. 

 

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?” Black Tom sneered and pointed the stick at Logan again before he could get fully out of the way. The blast didn’t hit him so squarely this time, but the force of it totaled the car and lit his pants on fire. A third blast was a wave of force and heat that cut through a street light like a welder’s torch and set a nearby tree on fire. Logan managed to go underneath it, but even so, he could smell singed hair off of his head on top of the burning flesh on his chest. 

 

His body was working to heal the damage already, but Logan knew that this fucker could deliver the pain faster than his body could deal with it if he wasn’t careful- burning damage took longer to heal than simple cuts, tears or contusions. 

 

“I heard you lost your memories, Logan. You’ve lost your skills, too. The old Logan wouldn’t have flinched dealing with me.” Tom Cassidy taunted him. “What’s the matter? Gone soft?” Another horrific gout of force and flame issued forth, this one sustained and snaking about almost like a flamethrower. Anything the fiery head of the torch touched, it melted, lit aflame or shattered. Logan growled, knowing that if this wasn’t ended soon, that soon there’d be a major fire in the downtown. He could move fast enough to avoid the worst of it, but sooner or later, unless he did something, Cassidy would catch him again. And the kind of hurt this guy could dish out was enough to stick, long enough, even for Logan. 

 

There was a cold, cruel smile on Cassidy’s face. “Why don’t you go crawling back to your little reserve and drink yourself to death? You’re getting old, half-breed.” Logan growled lowly. It was a deliberate provocation, coming from a man who clearly knew Logan’s ancestry, meant to enrage him and make him do something stupid. It brought back a million memories throughout a long life, of people likening him to some mongrel dog. 

 

“Fuck you, Cassidy.” Logan spat out and, straining as hard as he could, with a not-insignificant portion of his muscle mass burned away, to flip over the car and send that hurtling towards Black Tom. It wouldn’t work by itself, Cassidy would swiftly destroy the car with another torrent of flames. But it gave Logan enough cover to vault over it and land right on the fucker. Logan’s claws came down on Black Tom’s hand, forcing him to let go of the shillelagh and making the man scream out in pain. 

 

Logan smelled the fear again, this time far more intensely. His claws came down again and pinned Black Tom’s other hand to the asphalt, bringing out another scream from the man, who looked up at him with bulging, terrified eyes. It would be an easy thing for Logan simply to drag the claws down the flesh and bone of the man’s arms and into his torso, until they met in the middle, cutting the man into several pieces, two big ones and smaller slices. 

 

“Don’t kill me. Please. Please, I beg you, don’t kill me … I didn’t mean it …” It was really amazing how quickly cowards showed their true colours when they were stuck and bleeding. Men who would shrug off being shot would piss themselves and cry like little children when they were cut. Logan drove his claws deeper into the man’s wrists and the scream that came out was pure and high, almost musical, like some sort of choirboy. 

 

“Do you really think this is because you called me a fucking half-breed? You seem to know lots about me. Think I never heard that shit before?” Logan was bluffing a little, those words still had a way of crawling inside him, but he wasn’t going to let this sad bastard know that fact if he could help it. He didn’t want Black Tom Cassidy to get any physical or psychic satisfaction out of all this. “You sent a van bomb hurtling at a school with a bunch of fucking children in it. Erik Lehnsherr give you that order? Or did you think of it yourself?” 

 

Black Tom’s lips worked wordlessly for a moment, his eyes fluttering. Logan looked briefly at the hands he’d stuck- there was certainly a good amount of blood dribbling out, but it’d take some time for those wounds to be fatal. He’d almost certainly get medical attention before that happened. Logan knew what he was doing, no, it wasn’t that Black Tom was bleeding out. The fucker might’ve been on the verge of passing out from the pain, though. 

 

“He told me to make sure that you all couldn’t stop him when he makes his move.” Black Tom gasped out. “He was gonna get Raven to sabotage the plane and we were gonna nab the Professor-” He screamed out again as Logan’s claws shifted slightly. Black Tom looked decidedly pale and clammy. He was pretty certain the guy was getting pretty close to losing consciousness. Logan just shifted the claws again, just ever so slightly. Another gasp. 

 

“I don’t know anything else-” Logan didn’t buy that shit for a moment. 

 

He leaned in close to Black Tom Cassidy. “As of right now, you’ve got wounds you can survive pretty easily. Get some medical attention and you’ll probably even get function in your hands back. Now, if you go ahead and tell me what I need to know, I won’t make it worse on you- but if you know me as well as you seem to, you know that I won’t hesitate to kill you if I need to. What’s Magneto got in mind?” 

 

“Electromagnetic pulse- something about a big one. I dunno a lot else, it’s Magneto, he doesn’t really tell people thinks. Maybe Raven knows.” Logan got the impression that, at least, was the truth. He wasn’t going to get much else out of Black Tom, because not long after saying that, the guy finally fainted. Logan ripped off a few hunks of his shirt into an impromptu dressing for the man’s wounds, applying pressure until the bleeding had slowed and wrapping it snugly. There was the possibility that the Professor could get more out of the guy’s head. 

 

Letting out a heavy breath as he felt muscles and skin knitting themselves back together, Logan hoisted Black Tom Cassidy over his shoulder and started jogging back towards the Xavier Institute. Cassidy wasn’t especially big and Logan was stronger than any normal man could be, so it wasn’t difficult. Logan just hoped that he could avoid police attention in the immediate future, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case for the Institute itself. 

 

It was one thing knowing that there was a mutant school somewhere around the town, probably something unnerving enough for the locals. But the reality had been for them that the Xavier Institute was mostly quiet and kept to itself. The locals would see people like Jean Grey and Scott Summers on a date once in awhile and Bobby, Jubilee and Kitty would sometimes haunt the malls. But if Kurt and Wanda went out, Kurt was in an image inducer. It was usually quiet and unobtrusive and the people here liked their image as liberal cosmopolitans too much to do anything obnoxious like picket the school. 

 

But that quietness was pretty much blown, there’d been a fight with superpowers right on the property, probably audible to half the town. There’d be trouble for that, and a lot more attention directed their way. The damage was already visible, though it looked like the active fighting had petered out. The gate was wrecked and there were scorch marks visible at the entrance. There was a visible hole in the side and he knew there’d be more damage inside. 

 

Logan walked through the ruins of the front gate towards the front door and absurdly, he felt a bit like a soldier returning to base after a particularly dangerous mission. The driveway of the Mansion was long enough under normal circumstances, but it seemed simply enormous now, impossible and uncrossable like the line between the world of violence and war and the civilian one. Logan had never fit in as a civilian, not really. His idea of retirement had always been packing up and leaving civilization altogether. 

 

He was sure that a more poetic person could put those emotions into some pretty impressive words, but as it was, Logan couldn’t help but feel a complex mix of frustration, anxiousness about the future and simple relief that, for today at least, the battle was over. He opened the door and walked inside to see everything was a tumult, the physical damage and also the rushing of people back and forth. He looked over to see a decidedly pale-looking Kitty, lying on a couch with her feet up, tended by Piotr’s mother, who looked like she’d seen a lot worse before. 

 

Sonia Rasputin turned to face Logan. “She’ll be fine. A bit of shock from whatever happened between the adamantium helmet and her mutant powers.” 

 

“Took the helmet right off.” Kitty muttered. 

 

“You can brag to Logan about it all when you’re feeling better. You’re going to rest right here until you’re okay to be dragged into bed. And we’ll deal with your parents in the morning. Hopefully they’ll wait until then.” She sighed and Logan knew she was thinking about her own children. Piotr was immensely strong and virtually indestructible, but he knew how it was with mothers. Mothers always saw their kids as little children. And Illyana, well, she was actually pretty little. Maybe twelve and her mutant powers hadn’t even manifested yet. 

 

“Put him on the couch. Scott tells me that SHIELD is coming to take prisoners soon. They’ve got facilities for all three of them. I’ll do what I can to patch him up quickly before he gets transferred.” Logan did as she said and she immediately got to work, looking at the wounds he’d inflicted, changing the dressings. “He’ll be lucky if he can use his hands at all when it’s all said and done. There’s definitely nerve damage. I don’t have a proper theatre here to do anything about it, though.” 

 

“He tried to drive a bomb right into the school.” Logan noted. 

 

“I’m aware of that.” Sonia replied coolly, but deep down, her nerves were pretty rattled. “But I can’t look at him right now and not see a patient.” 

 

“Sshoulda seen it, Logan.” Kitty mumbled, looking up with a slightly woozy smile and a thumbs up. 

 

“Sure it was a hell of a sight. Get some rest, kid.” Logan couldn’t help but smile slightly.  _ She’d be a helluva soldier in any army that ever existed.  _ But that wasn’t quite true- Kitty had a pretty deep independent streak. She wouldn’t gel terribly well with military discipline. Then again, neither did he and he’d fought in maybe a dozen armies in his life. He turned back to Piotr’s mom, which really wasn’t a hard thing to do. 

 

“You look like you’ve seen stuff like this before. Where?” Logan asked. 

 

“Chechnya. But also mob wars in Moscow.” Sonia Rasputin replied. “I’m a trauma surgeon, I’ve seen worse than this. But not so close to my children.” 

 

“Piotr okay?” Logan asked. He was pretty fond of the tin Russian- seriously good people. He hoped that Betsy really realized that, because one day, Piotr was going to need more than a good time. He didn’t know if Elizabeth Braddock was interested in that. 

 

“Totally unhurt. Illyana’s okay, too, frightened, but all right. Thank goodness.” Logan raised his eyebrow. That sort of euphemism didn’t seem to fit what he knew of the woman, or of battlefield medics. 

 

“There’s a child in the room, Logan.” Sonia replied with a faint smirk. 

 

“Pfft. I’m fourteen.” Kitty replied a little slurrily. “I hear worse on the radio.” 

 

“And if you start repeating it, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap and write your parents a note about it.” Sonia’s faint smirk became a teasing grin. “You’re supposed to be resting, not serving as colour commentary.” 

 

“Colour commentary? That’s some pretty impressive English.” Logan couldn’t help but smile faintly himself. 

 

“Doctors didn’t get paid for shit in the Soviet Union or in Russia. I made more money teaching rich brats English.” Sonia shrugged. 

 

“Hey, you just swoooore.” Kitty piped up. 

 

“I’m an adult.” Sonia sniped back, but she was clearly amused, the light moment probably sorely needed. It shouldn’t have been surprising to Logan that Piotr’s mom was damn good-looking either, but she had a pretty much perfect face and eyes that reminded him of a stormy sea, a bit more grey than Piotr and Illyana’s, but no less intense. 

 

“Since you’re an adult, what about gettin’ a beer or somethin’ after all this is sorted out?” Logan knew he probably shouldn’t be making even the gentlest pass at Piotr’s mom, but he couldn’t be bothered not to. Piotr was mature enough to get it. Besides, what was on the table right now were drinks. Logan sure as hell wouldn’t turn down more than that if it happened, though. 

 

“It’s going to take more than some watery American beer to make me forget the scent of you. You smell like overdone kebab.” Sonia wrinkled her nose. 

 

“You stink pretty bad.” Kitty chimed in. 

 

“That’ll heal soon enough.” Logan countered. “That wasn’t a no.” 

 

“It wasn’t.” Sonia agreed and there was a bit of a glint in her eyes. 

 

“Ooooh.” Kitty sing-songed a little shakily. 

 

“Shut up, half-pint.” Logan muttered affectionately, before going to get a shower and tend his wounds. 


	29. Pietro VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brotherhood (who aren't formally named that) aren't super happy about what has happened. 
> 
> Pietro is astonished when one of them stands up to his father.

“Remind me why the fuck we did that again.” John sucked in a harsh breath as Pietro did his best to patch him up. “Your father keeps going on about how we won a great big victory, but I never thought a win could feel so much like an ass-kicking.” Pietro finished wrapping a bandage around John’s arm and sighed harshly. It was true- they’d managed to get the Professor, but almost all of them had been hurt in the process. Fred was barely recognizable- he was invulnerable enough that no bones were broken, but his face had taken a horrific beating from the big metal guy. 

 

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Tabitha pointed out as she drank directly from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Pietro knew that was saying something- Tabby was always up for stupid shenanigans. Once upon a time, he’d been one of those stupid shenanigans. Thankfully, she didn’t seem overly bitter about that, but he could’ve done without her loudly asserting her opinion that he was ‘totally gay’.  _ It’s probably true, but I don’t really love the reminders.  _

 

“That wasn’t a victory.” Dom practically snarled, in an uncharacteristically bad mood. 

 

“But Mr. Lehnsherr-” Morty almost pathetically piped up, so simultaneously terrified and worshipful of Pietro’s father. 

 

“Fuck Erik Lehnsherr!” Dom picked up the bottle he was drinking and hurled it against the wall, the glass practically exploding. “Fuck this. We’re not supposed to be fighting other mutants at all. And I’m sorry, yeah, we have the Professor or Lehnsherr has the Professor somewhere, but firstly, I did  _ not  _ sign up to fucking kidnap a bunch of people, and secondly, they have Raven.  _ They have Raven.  _ No offense, Pietro, but your father doesn’t mean  _ shit  _ to me-” 

 

“None taken.” Pietro replied and it was almost entirely sincere- in truth, what was weirder to him was how angry Dom was, super-chill Dominic Petros, who usually played peacemaker with the more temperamental people who lived in the House. “Raven’ll bust out soon enough.” He was pretty sure of that. They might’ve been a bunch of dumb punk kids, but Raven had been a spy and assassin for more than half a century. She’d be fine. Besides, he knew the people at the Institute. They weren’t going to be hurting her. 

 

“Pietro’s right, Dom. Chill. Relax.” Tabby offered him the bottle of Jack, but Dom turned it away with a wave of his hand. She shrugged and took another drink of the whiskey herself. “But seriously, what the hell? We’re supposed to, like, hang out and shit and sometimes go and fuck up people who hate us.” 

 

“Mr. Lehnsherr wouldn’t-” Mortimer piped up again. 

 

Pietro sighed. “Morty, come on. My dad’s not here, you don’t have to be afraid of him. He’s just a guy and he fucked up. Honestly. He fucked up and we’re pissed about it.” It felt good to cast it all like that, to make it a straightforward mistake. Mistakes could be forgiven and maybe even eventually forgotten. Pietro got to feel like a cool rebel and also, in the end, be a good son. 

 

John reached out towards Tabby’s whiskey like a baby motioning towards its mother for a bottle of formula and she handed it over to him obligingly. He took a swig of it and passed it over to Pietro, and at the moment, he found himself not really wanting to be sober. He took a drink of it before passing it back to Tabby. Pietro tended to prefer weed, but there was something masochistically suiting about the burn of the whiskey as it went down his gullet. 

 

Pietro had done probably as well as any of them had done, but as fast as Pietro was, it was difficult dealing with people who were basically impervious to anything he could throw at him- like the big Russian, or who could shield themselves. It was harder because he had a deep-seated desire not to actually hurt a lot of those people. He remembered kicking Scott’s ass at basketball and losing to him at chess- but those were games. He  _ liked  _ the guy. 

 

It was also fucked up that Dad had actually kidnapped Wanda and Kurt. It was  _ super fucked-  _ how was he going to be able to look Wanda in the eye the next time they met? She’d kill him.  _ What the hell brother am I, anyway? The last time we met, I was angry and all I could manage to say were cruel things. I should be happy for her. She’s got something worth hanging onto. What do I have? A father who sees all of us as pawns, I guess. Some kinda-friends.  _

 

“I hope you guys don’t mind that I just ordered some pizza. Don’t really feel like cooking.” Fred walked into the room and settled down heavily in the special reinforced-steel frame chair that Raven had got for him, the one chair that could support his weight. To say that Fred Dukes looked awful was an understatement, the bulk of his body was unharmed, but he was missing a couple of teeth and his face was a swollen-monstrosity, a gigantic purple-black welt. 

 

Pietro was used to thinking of Fred as just about invulnerable and well, he’d stood his ground pretty good against the metal Russian, but  _ someone  _ had taught Shiny Ivan Drago the fundamentals of boxing and the relatively soft tissues around Fred’s face had taken a horrific beating. Pietro wondered if, in a way, it would’ve been better for Fred not to have been so damned tough. If he’d been knocked out, he didn’t think that the Russian would’ve continued. 

 

Then again, if Fred had fallen, there wasn’t anyone that could’ve got him out of there. They’d been incredibly lucky to avoid capture as it was. 

 

“They let us go.” John said quietly, as if they had a telepathic link like Jean and Scott did, which was the most ridiculous thing in the world. He hated that. They were always thinking things together, even when they were doing other things. Jean and Scott were probably sexting each other just about every moment of every day in their brains and nobody would ever know. Which was, probably, just as well, but it annoyed Pietro. Their perfect love annoyed Pietro. 

 

“Why’d they do a dumb thing like that? We could, like, go out and get revenge or something.” Tabby actually set down her bottle of Jack and flopped herself on Dom, who would probably normally be all about female attention, but seemed to have his mind on other things at the moment.

 

“Why would we go do that? We’re the ones that showed up on their lawn wanting to fight, we shouldn’t exactly be surprised that they fought.” John sighed, and apparently deciding that he wanted to pull a Tabby, flopped against Pietro. Pietro shifted slightly, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t really that he didn’t like John resting against him so much as he kinda  _ really  _ liked it. 

 

“Aw, you two make a nice pair.” Tabby actually smiled and looked up at Dom. “Don’t they, though? They make the sweetest little pair. Two pretty boys. Hey, I don’t mind at all if you start making out. By all means. I could use something nice.” She took another swig of her whiskey. 

 

“Fuck you, Tabby.” John replied archly. “If Pietro and I start making out, you’re not fucking invited. But I’m sure that Dominic would happily oblige you with a furiously passionate round of coitus.” He delivered it all in a cheerfully fake British accent. Morty looked visibly rankled at it, but quickly put his nose into a book.  _ Poor bastard must be lonely these days. He mostly hung out with Rogue.  _ Pietro didn’t know Morty too well, but he’d gathered that his life had been horrible. He remembered talking to John and somehow it’d come up that as shitty and abusive as his own father had been, Morty had been far worse off. When Pietro had asked if John knew how he’d been abused, John had simply said ‘yes’. 

 

Tabby snorted with laughter, which caused some of the whiskey she’d just drank to come out of her nose, which made her cry out in horror. “Jesus  _ fuck,  _ John. Don’t do that when I’m fucking drinking. I got fucking whiskey in my  _ nose. _ ” She broke out into a coughing fit. 

 

“Look at you.” The voice was unmistakable, the physical presence immediately withering away the collegiate, joking atmosphere. It was easy enough to talk smack about Dad when he wasn’t around, but his physical presence was terrifying. Blue eyes looked around balefully at the room. “No wonder you performed so miserably. Perhaps if one of you could have done something right, we wouldn’t have lost Raven.” 

 

Mortimer looked like he wanted to become a part of the furniture and Pietro knew, just knew from one quick glance at him that Dad was triggering all the pain and fear he’d known for most of his life. Dad hadn’t ever hit Morty, would never dream of doing some of the other things that Morty’s parents or the other kids at the orphanage might have done to Morty, but the oppressive reality of power was all that was needed to reduce Mortimer Toynbee again into a cringing child. Erik Lehnsherr didn’t have to strike Mortimer’s body to abuse him, he could bruise the kid’s soul with a simple glare. 

 

Tabby had a far more mundane ‘oh shit’ look on her face and she very quietly set the bottle down, as if getting it out of her hand would deflect Erik’s anger somehow. John looked up briefly at Pietro, probably curious about how Pietro himself would react, not cowering precisely, but not saying anything either. Fred looked like he wanted to hide too, but that would’ve been impossible. And as for Wyngarde, he’d been  _ gone.  _ Poor little rich boy had probably decided that shit was a bit too real for his taste.

 

“Perhaps, however, I should not lay the blame entirely on you. What have you been taught? Raven does not appear to have instilled any discipline in any of you.” It was a provocation- it was an intentional provocation. He was saying something he knew that people would find immensely offensive and waiting to see how they’d react, so he could cut them down to size. Opinions about him varied among them, but every single one of them absolutely loved Raven Darkholme. 

 

Dad was trying to make them feel angry, but also guilty. It was an unfair game against a stacked deck- there was no interaction with Dad that was possible without the reality of power hanging in the air. Kids were probably generally raised to believe that their dads were capable of anything, and for most kids, that was probably a nice thing to believe. It gave some security to a big and terrifying world, but for Pietro, it was Dad himself that was terrifying.

 

“Why didn’t you save her?” Dom asked quietly. 

 

The silence in the room was deafening. Pietro couldn’t believe that any of them could actually say something like that. It wasn’t simply that he couldn’t personally imagine defying his father like that. It was that he could scarcely imagine it being  _ possible.  _ You couldn’t actually say things like that to his father’s face, could you? Maybe if you were Charles Xavier and had the moral commitment of a saint and the most powerful telepathic mind in the world and a dozen powerful mutants backing them. 

 

Dom very, very gently set Tabby aside and stood up and getting a closer look, yeah, Pietro could see some fear in the Greek boy’s eyes. But he wasn’t running away either, he’d actually stood up and he was looking his father in the eyes. The silence got even louder and nothing in the world made any sense and everything seemed to collapse into Dominic Petros standing up to Erik Lehnsherr. 

 

“You’re the most powerful mutant in the world, probably.” The ‘probably’ felt significant, but Pietro couldn’t be sure if it was just a slip of the tongue or not. “You could probably take on every single one of those kids at the Institute and win, easily.” 

 

“Don’t question me, boy.” Father wasn’t in complete control of this conversation, he was being forced to use diminutives. It was clear that he didn’t want the challenge, wasn’t expecting a challenge. He’d come into the room looking for an easy target to vent his own anger and Pietro knew then that things hadn’t gone exactly to plan. He realized now that it could’ve been possible to set Raven up as a saboteur on the inside, in some sort of caper.

 

“I’m not challenging you. I’m asking a question. Why didn’t you save her?” Dom’s hands were shaking visibly, but he wasn’t backing down. The fact that he was plainly frightened not only made the moment feel a bit more real, but if anything, it made Pietro respect the guy even more. 

 

“I need not justify my actions to you.” Erik snarled, but it was hollow inside. Pietro knew his father well enough to know the rare, rare occasions where he’d been beaten. It wouldn’t be a difficult thing for Erik Lehnsherr to simply beat them into submission on the spot, nor, indeed, even to kill them. None of them had anything like the amount of power they did. But instead, Erik Lehnsherr simply stormed out of the house altogether, not even bothering with finishing whatever it was he had to say or do. 

 

The silence remained for another minute or two, a span of a hundred or so seconds that felt like even more of an eternity than life normally did for Pietro. 

 

“I don’t know if that was the bravest thing I ever saw or the fucking stupidest.” John finally said, his voice unusually quiet. “Holy shit, man.” 

 

“Me either.” Dom replied truthfully. 

 

“That wasn’t a good idea.” Mortimer’s voice was thin and shaky and he flinched when people looked at him, like he was going to get hit. “He’s going to be very angry.” 

 

“That was fucking  _ hot,  _ Dom.” Tabby exclaimed and then, astonishingly, she actually sounded a bit serious for a moment. “He should’ve rescued Raven. He’s her fucking boyfriend. What kind of asshole boyfriend doesn’t save their girlfriend?” Tabby, who normally drowned her feelings in booze and weed and sex, looked more thoughtful and emotionally responsive in that moment than Pietro had ever seen her. 

 

“I hope you’re not too pissed at me, Pietro.” Dom turned towards him for a moment as he sat back down and motioned for Tabby to come back if she wanted to, which she did pretty much instantly. 

 

Was he? He felt like he should have been- that was his dad. Then again, he thought that Dad had fucked up pretty bad too. And Raven had been way kinder to him in reality than Dad had ever been. 

 

“No. We’re good, man.” Pietro replied. 

 

“Good. We’re going to need you. Is there holding cells in the Institute?” Dom asked. 

 

“Uh, not really. There’s like, one. But …” Pietro looked at Dom. “Wait a second.” 

 

“So they’ll be transferring her out of there, if they haven’t done it yet. And then we’re busting Raven the fuck out of there. Ourselves. And if Erik does it first, whatever. Good for him. Maybe he learned something from our little conversation. But I don’t feel like waiting for him. This is Raven’s house, and our house. It’s not his.” Dom’s eyes scanned around everyone in the room. “You guys down with that?” 

 

“Fuck yeah.” John replied from his comfortable nook against Pietro. He felt really warm- Pietro wondered how warm he felt without all those clothes.  _ Shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.  _ But he was, and he hoped that John was thinking similar things. Maybe he’d find out later tonight or sometime soon. 

 

“Mama Raven can’t be in some fucking jail.” Tabby pouted. “Count me in. I feel way better fucking up prison guards than some kids in a prep school.” 

 

“To be fair, they fucked  _ us  _ up, Tabby.” John noted with a wry smirk and then a slight wince as a shift triggered pain in bruised ribs. 

 

“I’m down.” Pietro replied. “With or without my father.” 

“Me too.” Fred replied. “Raven took us all in when we had nowhere to go. We owe her one, not him.” 

 

Everyone turned towards Morty again, and the small young man eventually nodded, unable to make himself actually say anything. Pietro figured that was as good as they were getting from him. 

 

“So we figure out where they’re taking Raven and we rescue her.” Dom took a breath. “And if I have anything to say about it, we’re going to leave that Institute the fuck alone. They’re not the enemy. And I think we found out we don’t  _ want  _ them to be our enemies.” 

 

“Tell me about it.” Fred managed to laugh. 

 

“That sounds great, Dom, but one thing. Raven’s in love with Erik. What happens if she wants to follow him?” John asked quietly. 

 

“We’ll deal with that when it happens.” Dom replied. “We owe her one, after that- I don’t know. We’ll see.” 

  
  
  
  



	30. Kurt VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kris writes some fanfic after a long time away! *shakes off the rust a bit*
> 
> Kurt and Wanda remain captives of an unknown A-list villain. 
> 
> God, those kids can't keep their hands off each other, can they? 
> 
> Crazy kids.

“We’re not getting out of here anytime soon, are we?” Wanda asked, looking up at the ceiling amid the wreckage of what once had been an immaculately made bed. They had spent most of the day desperately trying to find a door or a window or a proper vent, but everything was far too small to sneak through and Kurt’s teleportation didn’t even work here. Their powers were completely useless here, dampened by some technology in the rooms. 

 

“It would appear not.” Kurt turned his head over to glance at Wanda, his gaze travelling slowly up flawless curves until he met her eyes. Hours of frantic searching hadn’t revealed anything. He remembered, dimly, that he’d felt exhausted at the time and yet, somehow, they’d both found quite a bit of energy.  _ I suppose we might have spent the time better continuing to search, but we’d found nothing thus far.  _ In the end, with no apparent way out, an extremely comfortable bed and any necessary supplies right at hand- he was far less concerned for his own well-being right now than he was for the others. 

 

“So what’s this? Two kidnappings in a week, now? Jesus fuck, you’ve got  _ terrible  _ luck, Fuzzbutt.” Wanda rolled over slightly and placed her head gently on Kurt’s chest. “Can’t say as mine’s much better, though, despite supposedly having powers that mess with probability.” 

 

“Wanda.” Kurt didn’t love hearing the Lord’s name taken in vain, though he was very aware that, according to official Church teachings, he’d committed more than a few sins in the last several hours.  _ My list for whenever I do confession next is growing larger and larger. I should start keeping a journal or something.  _ Of course, to get to a church to do confession, he’d have to escape or leave this place. It appeared that at some point, Magneto intended on letting them escape, but Kurt knew they’d have to do that before him. 

 

“Sorry. Right. My boyfriend’s Catholic.” Wanda let out a small yawn and managed a smile up at him. “You’re not being consumed by regret or anything, are you? So, when you go to confession, you actually tell the priest all the stuff you did? It doesn’t seem fair for a celibate guy to have to hear on a regular basis about all the sex other people are having.” Kurt was glad that she didn’t go on to make a joke about the proclivities of priests- it wasn’t a joking matter to him.  _ Most priests are good, but the Church does far too much to protect those that are not.  _

 

“You don’t necessarily go into detail.” Kurt replied, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s good sometimes to confess things. Maybe … maybe not so much intimate details. But feelings of anger and hate. Sometimes it’s good to share secrets, let it-” 

 

“Let it goooooo, let it gooooo-” Wanda sing-songed at him with a crooked grin on her face. Kurt reached over and gently bopped her with the pillow. His sister back in Germany had been obsessed with  _ Frozen _ . He’d heard that song several times a day, just about every day for every year since it had come out. Kurt didn’t particularly need to hear it ever again- he’d heard enough warbling of it to last an entire lifetime. Wanda’s grin broadened. “Heeere I aaaaam …”

 

“Wanda.” Kurt rolled his eyes and then smirked down at her. “I didn’t know you liked Disney so much. That’s not very dark or mysterious. What would all those metal bands you like so much think about that?” He grinned broadly. It was kind of fun, actually, to imagine Wanda dressed up in the elaborate gowns of a Disney Princess. Jimaine would have loved nothing more, she talked constantly about one day going to Disneyland or Disneyworld and getting to be a princess. 

 

“Guilty pleasure.” Wanda replied and effectively dissuaded further questioning by shifting up and kissing him again, shifting so she was on top of him. His hands moved to caress her back and sides. She sat up slightly, straddling him and his hands moved around to her stomach, trailing upwards to cup her breasts, which completely filled even his rather large hands. “Speaking of guilty pleasures … another round and then a shower? Then maybe we can get back to trying to figure out a way out of here?” 

 

“My apologies for interrupting your continued fornication.” A voice on the loudspeaker broke out. “You are to dress yourselves for an audience with His Excellency, the Master.” 

 

Kurt’s hands removed themselves promptly, if a little reluctantly from Wanda’s breasts as his attention turned from where he perceived the voice to be coming from. Wanda’s eyes narrowed, green eyes flashing with annoyance. “Maybe His Excellency can just fucking wait for an hour. Is that what my father’s calling himself now?” The words came out as a growl. It was reasonable enough to expect that was who they were being expected to see, and yet, Kurt somehow doubted it.  _ Her father would likely identify himself directly.  _ Something seemed vaguely familiar about that accent to Kurt- Germanic, but not precisely matching any of the accents of Germany or Austria. 

 

“His Excellency is not your father and he will not be kept waiting. You have half an hour. It is advised you use it for presenting yourselves before him.”

 

“... where are we?” Kurt asked, a little hesitant, fearing somehow that he’d absolutely hate the answer. He was pretty certain now that they were not in America anymore- virtually nobody in America spoke with that sort of accent. He had no idea, really, how long they were unconscious. He was beginning to have suspicions about who ‘The Master’ might actually be, and if that were the case, then they were well-advised to do precisely as the voice on the loudspeaker suggested.

 

“You are in Latveria.” The loudspeaker replied, with a trace of amusement. “Our Master is the man known in America as Doctor Doom, our ruler.” 

 

“Shit.” Wanda whispered, her annoyed defiance rapidly dissolving as she rolled off of Kurt. Kurt himself sat up, suddenly realizing the gravity of their situation.  _ Doctor Doom. Why would Erik be working with him? What does this mean?  _ It clearly implied that whatever Erik was up to, it had international implications. Furthermore, it suggested that their odds of a successful escape had sharply declined. 

 

“You would be best advised to avoid profanity when speaking to the Master. You have half an hour. Be dressed and ready and you will be transported to the audience chamber.” The loudspeaker voice switched off audibly. Kurt got out of bed and started looking around for clothes, which were not particularly suitable for a royal audience.  _ How’re we supposed to make ourselves fit for some royal audience if we’re stuck in our old clothes?  _ For a space that seemed almost perfectly set up in many other ways, it was oddly deficient in that.  _ Perhaps Raven and Erik expected we wouldn’t be wearing clothes very long.  _

 

Almost immediately, however, his question was answered as there was a gentle shimmering of light near the bed and full outfits appeared for both of them, perfectly hung up. Kurt got up and walked towards the tuxedo that had been left for him, along with dress shoes, shirt, tie and underclothes. It looked luxurious and Kurt was quite certain it was extremely expensive. Kurt glanced over at the stunningly gorgeous scarlet gown that had been set aside for Wanda. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought he’d had not so long about about Wanda being dressed up like a Disney princess. 

 

“You seem weirdly cheerful for a man who’s just discovered that my father is collaborating with the world’s most powerful supervillain.” Wanda glanced over at the gown that had been laid out for her. “Apparently Doctor Doom is a boob man. That’s gonna be cleavagey as all hell.” She glanced over at his suit. “Okay, so to be fair, if we’re marching off to our death or whatever, at least you’ll look damn hot doing it.” She sighed for a moment. “Ugh. Seriously, though, this situation just got a million times worse. Why the hell would my father work with a human?” 

 

“I’m not entirely sure the Master is quite human anymore.” Kurt replied, moving back over to where Wanda was on the bed. “The accident he was involved in, with the others, the Fantastic Four, it changed him. That was before he became the Master, the ruler of Latveria. My family knew it well, because Latveria was always a haven of sorts for the Romani, for the Sinte. We performed once in the capital, before it was Doomstadt. It was said that when he came back from the accident, he wasn’t really a man anymore, but something cold and metallic. Almost, but not quite, a machine.” 

 

“Metallic. Seems like a great idea, to be putting yourself around my father.” Wanda added dryly, though Kurt didn’t share her estimation of the situation. There was no doubt that Wanda’s father was incredibly powerful, perhaps even more powerful in one sense than Doom, but somehow Kurt suspected that if Doom’s body were somehow metallic, that he had means of mitigating that effect. He was one of the world’s greatest scientists and, it was said, also an accomplished sorcerer as well. They had already seen evidence of his technological prowess at least.  _ Don’t underestimate Doom. Doing so is foolish.  _ As pleasant in some ways as their confinement had been, they were in very real danger. 

 

“We should probably have a shower or something. Won’t be able to do anything with my hair in half an hour, though.” Wanda sighed. “... or … actually, how do you deal with all that fuzz in the shower?” The answer, of course, was that it actually dried fairly quickly, short as it was, though it had a nasty habit of leaving fine dark blue hairs in the shower everywhere. Kurt imagined, however, that it took quite a long time for Wanda’s hair to dry, beautiful and magnificent as her dark curls were. “We should probably try though.”

 

Wanda paused for a moment, as if considering her options. “Maybe we can find a way to escape when we’re meeting with him. I mean-” 

 

“The room is bugged.” Kurt was certain of it. If Doom had the technology to teleport clothes flawlessly to them, he had the technology to ensure that anything they said or did was recorded. Kurt had no doubt that he knew that they’d spent hours trying to find an escape route- most likely that amused the Master. Of course, it also meant the Master was likely privy to the other things they’d done, once the two of them had realized that an easy escape was not in the cards. 

 

“He’s got to know we’re thinking about it anyway. We’re captives, why wouldn’t we be thinking about escape?” Wanda reached over towards her purse, pulling out a pen and a piece of paper, doing her best to hide the fact that she was writing something on it before passing it quietly to Kurt, who hunched over the piece of paper as he carefully read it.  _ Attempting any manner of escape is going to be dangerous, but if we manage it at just the right time, we may succeed. Assuming that the power-dampening technology is limited to this room and isn’t inherent to wherever we are. Probably Castle Doom itself.  _

 

“It … it may be just as well to do as Doom wishes us to do. We’ll be safe if we do that. We should see what Doom wants. ” Kurt replied, reaching out to give Wanda’s arm a squeeze, hoping she received the message. The way that she swiftly wrenched her arm away and gave him a little glare indicated to him that she understood what he was trying to do.  _ Don’t overplay it, though. Drama should hold up a mirror to human nature.  _ She didn’t do anything overly melodramatic like slap him, though. 

 

“Fine.” Wanda replied, throwing in an annoyed pout for good nature. “Well, we should clean ourselves up and get dressed for our royal guest, I suppose.” The slight edge of sarcasm was a nice addition, though Kurt certainly knew that Wanda had no difficulty being sarcastic. Kurt suspected that Doom would be able to see through their act, but he also imagined that he was far too busy with schemes of world conquest and ruling a country to worry about constantly monitoring a couple of prisoners.  _ One of his underlings may be more lulled by it. One can only hope. And pray. Lord, if you’re listening, we’re going to need your help, perhaps more than ever.  _

 

“... think we can have a quick shower together?” Wanda thought out loud. “We could both use it, but frankly, I’m not sure if I can keep my hands off you in there.” She smiled slightly. “I’d think you’d be good at that, but you’re kinda awful at resisting temptation.” Kurt couldn’t help but laugh slightly in response to that. It was true, in some ways. He certainly had a fairly terrible track record in resisting the temptation of women- though he’d always doubted how anything that felt so good could be, really, wicked.  _ I never hurt Amanda in any way, nor Wanda.  _

 

“... only if it’s a cold one.” Kurt replied with a faint grin, which caused Wanda to break out laughing. Impulsively, he leaned over to kiss her, his hands taking another chance to run through that incredible, wonderful dark, curly hair that he loved so much. When they parted, their foreheads rested together gently for a moment and despite the strange and perilous situation they were in, Kurt realized he was as happy now, with her, as he had been in a very long time. 

 

“I think …” Wanda kissed him again, but it was a brief one. “I think we’d better get ready to meet Doctor Doom. Because if you kiss me like that too many more times, I’m not going, even if he sends the entire Latverian army through that door.” She pulled away from him a little reluctantly and started gathering up the clothes that had been left for her. “But seriously, if I breathe wrong, I’m going to fall right out of this dress.” She looked over at Kurt for a moment and raised her eyebrow. “And yes, that’s a bad thing. I don’t mind you seeing them, but I’m really not interested in getting my tits out for Doctor Doom. Scandalous.” 

 

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh again. He knew that he should be significantly more frightened, intimidated by the notion of even attempting an escape anywhere in the vicinity of Doom, of being in Latveria, of being drawn even slightly into Doom’s orbit. He knew, also, that the bitter ghosts of the recent past were not done with him yet. Kurt hadn’t finished grieving for and feeling guilty about Stefan, not nearly. Nor had he truly become comfortable with his own appearance. He knew that he would still be feared and hated by most people he met. 

 

Despite all that, he found that he was happier than he’d been in a very long time. The notion of trying to thrillingly escape from under the nose of one of the world’s most powerful and dangerous men was exciting more than it was terrifying, his instinct for feats of derring-do heightened considerably by the thought of an adventure. Kurt had always dreamed of being a swashbuckling hero, since he was a little boy and it wasn’t going to be long before, hopefully, they executed a very daring escape. 

 

More than anything, though, Kurt knew that his much improved spirits had a lot to do with Wanda. He had to remind himself that they had not been together long and also, that there were unresolved issues there, with Wanda’s feelings for Jean. But nonetheless, he had felt a real connection from her from not long after they’d met for the first time. Kurt looked back over at Wanda and smiled. 

 

“Shall we get into our costumes, milady?” Kurt’s smile broadened into a grin. 

 

“Certainly. But first, a cold shower. Very cold.” Wanda teased back with a grin of her own. 

 

“Anything that milady requests.” Kurt bowed with a flourish before gathering up his own clothes and starting to move towards the bathroom with them.  _ If nothing else, we’ll look amazing as we make our daring escape.  _ Once they had accomplished that, they could find a way back to America- somehow.  _ Or, more practically, to my family in Germany. There I can easily contact the Professor.  _

 

Suddenly, the comfortable moment was spoiled by a tightening feeling in his chest, when he realized that, it really was an assumption to think that the Professor or the Mansion would still be there. He knew that Wanda’s father had clearly started gunning for them, and if Doom had thrown in for him, what else were they collaborating on? 

 

“We’re going to get out of here.” Wanda replied, as if she were in fact, telepathic. “And they’ll be fine. Let’s focus on what we need to do.” 

 

Kurt nodded. “We have a mission.” 


	31. Jean III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean Grey has to go on Cerebro to try and find all their missing friends. 
> 
> Also, keeping things secret from your boyfriend who you're psychically connected to is hard.

Jean Grey found that her hands shook less if she kept them tightly balled up as she walked down the corridor to where Cerebro was housed. She glanced over at Scott, wishing that she could see his eyes, see either his resolve or his uncertainty. The first would fortify her, the second one would assure her that she wasn’t alone. All that she could really see, though, was a grim set to the jaw. Charles was missing, having been taken by Erik somewhere. Wanda and Kurt were gone too and it could only be assumed that they were taken by the same people. 

 

SHIELD had picked up Raven from the Mansion only a few hours ago. Jean remembered seeing Rogue watching the convoy pull away grimly, trying to hold tears back. Tears that were equally of sadness and anger. Jean had felt her thoughts then, and they weren’t pretty, but how could they be? Jean wondered if she could have turned against her mother, even if it were the right thing to do. Then again, it was almost impossible to imagine Sarah Grey, liberal arts professor, as any sort of threat to anyone. Jean had wanted to talk to her, as had Scott, but she’d clearly been in no mood for it. 

 

_ She’s done enough for us. As terrible as things are right now, it could have gone much worse for us.  _

 

They stopped just ahead of the enormous door that housed the Cerebro equipment, one so immensely strong that Jean quietly doubted that even Piotr could have pushed it side. Thankfully, the Professor had given the two of them the access codes- aside from the Professor himself and Erik, they were the only people who had possessed them. Punching in the password was only part of it, however, because subsequently, there would be both a retinal and fingerprint scan before, finally, the colossal doors would open. 

 

Scott knelt down to put in the password and his fingerprint scan- the computer couldn’t scan his retinas due to his special lenses, but it would recognize the rest. Once he was done, it was Jean’s turn to do the same, punching in the password, getting the fingerprint and then the retinal scan. When it was all over, with a faint whir of gears, the doors slowly started opening, over a meter thick, made of vibranium-lined steel. As the door opened, the lights of the catwalk out to the Cerebro station began to light up, one at a time. 

 

“... well, here goes nothing.” Jean sighed slightly as she walked into the room slowly, one of her hands reaching out to grasp Scott’s, hoping that he didn’t notice or say anything about the slight clamminess on them.  _ Charles showed me how to use this, but I’ve never done it without his direct supervision and even then, only once or twice. It’s a huge leap. But we have no other choice. It’s by far our best opportunity to find the Professor, Kurt and Wanda.  _ Jean knew that Erik had technology to block Cerebro, but she also knew that the Professor had figured out workarounds for much of it. Magneto’s actual helmet was still untraceable to him, but the signatures of other people might be able to be found. 

 

“You’ll do just fine.” Scott reassured her as he gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be here.” Jean knew that, if things really went badly, he could always hit a killswitch that would immediately terminate Cerebro and release Jean. Activating the killswitch was a last-ditch thing, though, because the psychic shock was a considerable problem in its own right.  _ I’ve got to stop trying to think of the worst-case scenarios. Maybe it’ll actually work and I’ll find one or more of them. They could all be together in the same place.  _

 

There was no seat in the Cerebro station, for it had been built with Charles in mind, who would simply wheel his chair into place. It probably looked ridiculous, but Scott had actually brought a folding chair from the deck for her to sit on. Given how intense and engrossing it was, being able to rely on standing was a dicey proposition at best. He quickly set up the chair and she eased back onto it, the colossal metallic dome of Cerebro almost the exact opposite of the poolside or lakeside that she might normally have seated herself in. 

 

Jean reached over and grasped the headset of Cerebro, slipping it on her head, feeling it adjust slightly to her, as she started to engage it. She felt her heart start to beat faster and faster as she realized that there was no real turning back now. Cerebro was going to engage in mere seconds and she would be using it, by herself, for the first time ever.  _ I need to relax. Relax and clear my mind. As best I can. Open myself.  _

 

Jean remembered breath exercises that Charles had taught her when she was younger, exercises that would help bring her down from a terror-induced lashing-out of her psychic powers. She remembered the exercises intended to clear her mind of any extraneous thoughts. She remembered that Scott was there and he’d keep an eye on things to make sure that nothing went wrong.  _ I can do this. I’m okay.  _ She started to relax slightly into the seat just as the lights went back and then the kaleidoscopic swirl of colours exploded into her view as Cerebro showed virtually every mutant signature in the world. 

 

It was beautiful, impossibly vast. Jean could sense countless tiny details, about the nature of people’s mutations. Some mutant signatures were faint, almost invisible, others were big and bright. She took a breath and started to try and find the Professor’s signature- one that she knew would be as strong as any, that would be blue for psionic mutations. At first she noticed a gigantic blue signature and eagerly, homed in on it. It was greater than all the others, almost like a gas giant among smaller terrestrial planets. 

 

The location of the signature, however, made her realize that it was not the Professor after all. 

 

It was her  _ own.  _

 

Jean didn’t have time to dwell on the ramifications of that, however, for there was a certain value in finding her own signature as it happened- it gave her a clearer orientation to where the others were. 

 

“Cerebro, orient all signatures according to Jean Grey’s.” It felt weird using her own name like that, in the third person, but it would be easier for Cerebro to recognize. The mutant signatures now arranged themselves around here, as if her own signature were some star around which planets revolved.  _ There’s a thought that’s likely to give me all sorts of ego issues.  _ As expected, there were a large cluster of signatures right around her, the mutants in the Mansion itself, big bright green clusters for Ororo and Bobby, a bright red one for Piotr, a purple one for Scott. It seemed somewhat intriguing that Rogue’s was actually a blue dot- which implied that her powers were at least somewhat psychic in nature. 

 

_ Okay. Let’s get serious about this now.  _

 

“Cerebro, highlight all Alpha and Omega-level psionic powers. I’m particularly looking for Charles Xavier.” Jean watched as the view configured itself again, most of the lights disappearing now to be replaced with large, but relatively isolated blue blobs. From the millions of mutants that she knew existed, now she was down to a few dozen. She flicked through several of them. One of them made her raise her eyebrow slightly- a particularly large one that belonged to Emma Grace Frost, the owner of Frost Media and, according to Piotr and Betsy, a particularly amoral and ambitious telepath.  _ And a powerful one too.  _

 

“No signature can be detected for Charles Francis Xavier.” Cerebro replied and Jean could have sworn that there was a touch of sadness there. Jean sighed slightly, having expected that all along. If Erik had a spare helmet, it was quite likely that he would simply put Charles in one of them. It was a smart move. Otherwise, Charles could potentially signal others or force any underlings that Erik may have had to help him out. She wondered, however, if that applied to Kurt and Wanda. 

 

Most people would have assumed that Wanda was some sort of energy-manipulator, but the fact was that her mutant power was essentially unclassifiable and it read as grey. Jean told Cerebro to focus on mutants with unclassifiable abilities of Alpha or Omega-level. There were only a few signatures this time. She flitted between them, but none of them were Wanda.  _ Finding Kurt will be difficult without knowing what exactly I’m searching for. Unlike Wanda or the Professor, he’s not powerful enough to stand out like the rest of them.  _ On a fluke, however, she decided to try searching for Erik anyway, on the off-chance that his helmet was off and that, perhaps, he was in a location where he could be tested. 

 

“Signature for Wanda Lehnsherr located.” Cerebro chimed in and Jean’s eyes opened wide.  _ It must have just become visible to Cerebro.  _

 

“Where is she, Cerebro? What is going on?” Jean probably didn’t need to shout at the AI, but she needed to know.  _ If she’s in trouble, we have to help her. Immediately. I can’t lose her. We’ve barely had a chance to get past, it wasn’t exactly a fight, but … a rough patch.  _ Jean remembered the awkward and tense conversation she’d had with Wanda about getting different rooms. It was something she’d always regretted, how it’d come about, though she couldn’t think of another way that it would have worked. 

 

It had been poor timing as well. Wanda’s family situation, as terrible as it pretty much always had been, had become catastrophic. She had more or less cut herself off from her father and Pietro had left her to be with him. She didn’t always let on to it, but she knew that she loved Pietro immensely and being away from her twin brother was doing damage to her. She was glad that she’d found Kurt, that, really, her and Kurt had found each other, because she knew that Wanda needed all the happiness she could get.  _ But if I can’t love her like she deserves, I can at least help find her when she needs it.  _

 

“Wanda is located in East-Central Europe. Doomstadt, Latveria.” Cerebro’s AI replied cheerfully, but the thought instantly froze Jean’s blood.  _ Latveria? Doomstadt? What the hell is she doing there?  _ There were a few possibilities that went through Jean’s head and none of them were pleasant. Were Doom and Erik somehow working together? Had Doom intercepted Wanda for purposes of his own? Was Charles with them? 

 

“Are there any other known mutated individuals near her position?” 

 

“Kurt Wagner. He is less than one foot away from her position and they are moving at approximately thirty miles per hour towards the northwest.” 

 

_ Thirty miles per hour. That’s Kurt’s running speed when he drops to all fours. That suggests that Wanda’s on his back.  _

“Keep tracking them, Cerebro.” Jean switched the program off as quickly as she could and looked up at Scott. “I imagine you heard all that.” 

 

“Latveria.” Scott nodded. “Holy shit.” He took a breath. “I’ve already called the others. We’re running diagnostic on the plane to make sure that Raven didn’t leave anything nasty on it after all, but we can be ready to go in minutes. The plane’ll get there in a few hours. We’ll have to play this one carefully. Very carefully. Doctor Doom is not someone you want to underestimate.” Another breath. “Come on, let’s get our butts out of here. We’ve got a rescue mission to coordinate. I’m gonna patch through to the Fantastic Four, see if Reed Richards or Sue Storm can give us any pointers.” 

 

Scott helped her up as she slipped off the Cerebro headpiece, finding that her legs were surprisingly weak underneath her. She had been warned about this, about how weirdly draining using Cerebro was if you were not accustomed to it. Charles had always kept her sessions brief for exactly that reason, among others. Jean found herself leaning a little on Scott until they’d crossed the catwalk and were on the other side of the colossal doors. Once that was done, she peeled herself away from Scott. 

 

“Are you going to be okay, Jean?” Scott asked, looking at her, his thoughts registering concern. 

 

“I’m okay. It’ll pass in a few minutes. Let’s get ready. We’ve got to go find Wanda and Kurt. If they’re in Latveria, they’re in danger.” Jean straightened up. “Who are we going to take with us?” 

 

“Logan.” Scott answered immediately. “I might ask Longshot too, he might be good at infiltration if we need to do it. I’m going to ask Ororo too, we may need her to cover any exit.” He took a breath and looked back over at Jean and almost immediately, she knew what he was thinking.  _ You can’t be serious, Scott. There is no way in fucking hell that I am staying behind if Wanda’s in danger. Absolutely not.  _ Jean stepped away for a moment, feeling a flush of anger in her cheeks. 

 

_ We’ve got people we can’t truly trust here. Rogue seems like she’s on our side, but I’m not actually sure of that. Are you, really? Besides, you can operate Cerebro and you might be able to locate Dad while we’re gone. Wanda’s like a sister to me, Jean, you think I’m going to do anything other than everything I can to find her?  _ Scott’s conscious thoughts were, of course, arguing a compelling logic but even though she couldn’t really see his eyes, she could see how worried he was. He was right, though, Jean was the only person that could use Cerebro. She could help guide them and perhaps figure out a way to find the Professor at the same time. 

 

_ I don’t think we’ve got a problem with Rogue, honestly. If she wanted to screw us over, she would have done it already. But … you’re right.  _ Jean hated that he was right, because more than anything, she wanted to be there for Wanda. She still felt horrible about what had happened.  _ It was all my fault. I should have found a way to make it work with Wanda. But what could I have done, really?  _ She realized only too late that she’d projected the thought. 

 

_ What was all your fault?  _ Scott glanced over at Jean for a moment and she could sense his concern, but also the mental equivalent of a raised eyebrow.  _ Did you two get into a fight or something? I kind of wondered.  _ Jean didn’t need to ask, and didn’t need to be a telepath to know that Scott knew that something was up. The great big secret, that she’d managed to withhold from him for a long time, because she knew it would make everything so much more awful and complicated. 

 

There was probably no point in keeping things from him. Jean knew that, but she also knew that if they got into it now it could compromise the mission. 

 

_ I’ll tell you later when everyone’s back safely. I also can’t really say much about it without talking to Wanda first.  _

 

_ … Okay. I’d better go get everyone ready.  _

 

When Scott had left, Jean slumped herself up against the wall for a second, cursing herself for having given him something else to be concerned about- knowing that there would be consequences for her having kept it from him. At the same time, however, it wasn’t really hers to tell- it was Wanda’s heart, not her own. She did love Wanda. Truly, madly, and sometimes she wished she didn’t have to choose. And yet, Jean knew that when it had come time to make a choice, she’d chosen Scott and she hadn’t hesitated for a moment. 

 

_ I hope he can understand that much at least when it all comes out into the open. And I hope that Wanda can forgive me. That she’ll be all right. I should try to forget about all this and focus. Focus on trying to find Charles. Coordinating with the people on the ground. They need me to be focused.  _

 

_ Okay. I should go back in. And get ready. They need me.  _

 

_ God, if you’re out there, look out for everyone. Charles. Wanda. Kurt. The team that’s going out. We need every bit of help we can get.  _


	32. Longshot III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longshot is his perennial self. He's worried about Rogue. Logan thinks he's kind of crushing. 
> 
> Also, the team's about to go off to rescue Kurt (again) and Wanda! 
> 
> Yay for heroics!

Longshot was worried about Rogue. He’d never had a mother- so he didn’t quite know how she was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t good. To him, it had seemed fairly simple. There was a dangerous person trying to wreck their plane, the same plane that had rescued him from the never-ending hell of being Mojo’s star attraction. It had been the plane that had taken him to America, where he could sleep in a comfortable bed at night and drink Coca-Cola whenever he wanted to. Where nice people like Jean helped him to learn how to read better and Dr. McCoy could show him how things worked when he didn’t understand them. 

 

It seemed strange to him because he’d fought alongside Raven, too, and though he’d been a little disturbed by her fondness for weapons, he hadn’t really thought of her as a bad guy.  _ I guess that shows me for listening to other people when my feelings told me something else. I might not be good at books or computers, but I have a pretty good sense of people.  _ The more he thought about it, the more he was baffled that someone like Raven could have kids that were as great as Kurt and Rogue were. He supposed they’d got their mother’s looks, but not her personality. He hoped that the SHIELD people could put her away somewhere secure, where maybe she could think about what she’d done. 

 

Raven might have been one of the bad guys, but Longshot didn’t think she was evil like Arcade or Mojo or the Sugar Man, all of whom seemed to live for nothing more than to make people suffer for the amusement of themselves or others.  _ Hopefully she doesn’t break out anytime soon. And when I’m done helping Kurt and Wanda, I’ll do something nice for Rogue. She deserves it.  _ He hoped that she wasn’t going to be mad at him for a long time, but she seemed pretty mad at him when he’d tried to talk to her before. Jean told him that it would pass and he hoped she was right, because he liked Rogue a lot and didn’t want her to hate him. 

 

While he was wishing for things, Longshot also wished that Kurt wouldn’t be kidnapped quite so much because it seemed very unfair. He’d heard a few details about what had happened to Kurt before he’d come here and it sounded really terrible. Kurt was a nice guy, brave and kind and a lot of fun to train with. They were both incredibly agile and it was never a sure bet as to who would win. Kurt had told him that in Germany, where he came from, he lived in a circus that moved from town to town and he did things to entertain people. Unlike Longshot, however, he wasn’t forced into it and didn’t have to work for evil men. 

 

“Feelin’ nervous, kid?” A gruff voice distracted him from his thoughts, which were also distracting him from the mission at hand, or getting ready for it, so Longshot supposed that maybe it was a good thing. He looked over at Logan, or rather, down, because Logan was pretty short, nearly half a foot shorter than Longshot was. Longshot seemed to be sort of in the middle of the men’s height- taller than Logan and a bit taller than Kurt, about the same height as Scott, but a lot smaller than Piotr, who was really big. Rita once said that boys who wanted to be really big had to eat their Wheaties. Longshot guessed that Piotr must have eaten a whole lot of Wheaties as a boy. 

 

Longshot wondered what it was like to be a boy. He didn’t remember and he wasn’t actually even sure he’d ever been one. Once he’d heard Hank speculate about whether he’d been made in a laboratory- he was fairly sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that. Longshot believed that Hank thought the idea would upset him, but the truth was that it seemed like, from what Jean and her books had told him, that the point of being a boy, or girl, was to learn and experience new things as much as it was to grow up into a full-sized person. Someone could learn and experience things at any age, they didn’t have to be a boy or a girl. 

 

“Hey, Earth to … Longshot? You got an actual name, anyway?” Logan looked over at him. “Hope yer not this distracted in the field.” 

 

“No.” Longshot replied. “I’m never distracted when I’m doing things. It’s just when I’m not doing things that my brain makes all kinds of thoughts.” He smiled faintly. “I’m not afraid. I trust all of you to watch my back and I trust my skills. And we’re doing good, so my luck should hold pretty well. Are you nervous?” Logan didn’t look nervous, but sometimes people tried to hide how scared they were. Rita used to do that a lot. And he had a feeling that Rogue was doing it a little too, but with angry glares and icy silence instead of snappy one-liners like Rita liked to do. 

 

Longshot missed Rita a lot and he hated Mojo and the Sugar Man for warping her into Spiral. He hoped that maybe, one day, he could go back to Genosha and find a way to turn her back. But Longshot didn’t have a way to do that and he had to help Wanda and Kurt first. A tiny part of him felt a little jealous, because even though Kurt got kidnapped a lot, he also got to be with the girl he liked. Longshot put that thought of his head, though, it wasn’t a good one and it made him feel bad. He wanted his friends to be happy. 

 

“Nervous? Nah. I’m practically spoiling for a fight. But we’ll be better off if it doesn’t come to that. They ever tell you anything about Doom, kid?” Longshot didn’t really like it that much when Logan called him ‘kid’, but he did that with a lot of people. He didn’t think that it was an insult, really. He was pretty young, after all, even if he wasn’t really a kid. There was something that Logan had said a little earlier, however, that really bothered him. He’d have to say something about that. 

 

“No ... and Longshot is my real name. Don’t say that it’s fake, please.” Longshot did his best not to sound angry or annoyed, but he really hoped that Logan got the point. He’d never been known as anything but Longshot in his life and he doubted that would ever change. Maybe one day, he’d find a reason to need to have another name for one of those funny plastic cards that apparently people needed for things. But Longshot hadn’t needed to drive a car or go to the store or prove to the American government that he was actually Longshot, so he hadn’t worried about that yet. 

 

“... all right. Longshot it is, kid. Pretty good name, really. Because this is a fuckin’ long shot.” Logan shook his head and grinned, showing teeth that seemed to be a bit sharper than they needed to be. Longshot wondered if he ever bit people. That seemed strange because why would someone bite people when they had claws that could cut anything? He was glad, though, that Logan was on their side, because he was a really good fighter and those claws had once made very short work of one of his knives. 

 

“I don’t understand. We’re going on a rescue mission, unless we’re going to try and attack Doctor Doom at long range while we go rescue him. But that doesn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.” Longshot would have thought the best thing to do was simply to try and grab their friends and run away. He had heard from the news that Doctor Doom was very powerful and dangerous and ran his own country. Not even Mojo had a whole country to inflict misery and pain on. 

 

“A long shot means something that’s not likely to happen, kid. Though from what I gather, you have a way of making impossible things happen. Not much of a believer in luck here, but I’ll take what I can get.” Logan rooted through his belt and took out a cigarillo, lighting it up. Longshot didn’t like the smell of the smoke, but it seemed rude to say something about it. Logan seemed to like those things. Jean said they were disgusting and bad for his health. Longshot didn’t know about the health part of it, but the smoke smelled terrible and didn’t feel good when he breathed it in. He moved a little further away, which made Logan laugh. 

 

“So I hear you helped bring Raven in. How’s the kiddo holding up? That was her mother, wasn’t it?” Logan took another drag on his cigarillo, filling the air with yet more awful-smelling smoke. Longshot knew that Logan healed fast and he wondered if that helped him deal with the smell of the smoke, which was really awful. He thought about Rogue again, though, since Logan had mentioned her. He hoped she was okay. She seemed like a very good and very brave person. 

 

She was also really, really pretty, which was neither her nor there, or maybe it was. Longshot wanted to be friends with her, but he didn’t know if she’d ever want to be friends with him now, even though they’d captured Raven together. Emotions were strange and Longshot had enough trouble sometimes dealing with his own feelings. Jean suggested giving Rogue some time. Longshot wished she’d been more specific. Did she mean hours? Days? Weeks? Longshot hoped she didn’t mean years. He’d never even had a year go by that he remembered. The longest he’d been alive before dying and being reborn was about six months. A year seemed like a really long time. 

 

“... I don’t know if she’s okay.” Longshot decided the only answer he could give was an honest one. “I hope she is. But I can’t really ask, because I think she’s mad at me and I don’t know how long she’ll be mad.”

 

“Hm.” Logan thought for a moment. “Dunno. I wouldn’t take it too personal, though. She’s probably way madder at herself than she is at you. Maybe give her a few days and when you talk to her next don’t make it about that.” He took another puff. “You seem kinda fond of her.” He smirked. “I can practically smell it offa ya, even with all this smoke swirling around. Watch yourself. She’s a pistol, I can tell.” 

 

“Pistols are handguns and she’s not a handgun.” Longshot knew that he might have been making a comparison, but it was a strange one to make. Rogue was a lot more powerful than a handgun and also a lot prettier. There wasn’t a lot of time to discuss it further, because Scott walked in to tell them that it was time to go. Longshot took a deep breath and checked to see if all of his knives were there. He hoped he didn’t have to use them on people, but they were useful for a lot of things. 

 

It was interesting to see who else was on the airplane. Rogue wasn’t coming, which seemed strange to Longshot, because she was incredibly strong and fast and could fly almost as well as the plane- she had a lot of really good powers that would be useful. Ororo was there, though, and so was Piotr and Logan. The purple-haired woman was there too, Betsy. Longshot hadn’t talked much to her. She was extremely pretty, but she didn’t seem quite as nice as Rogue or Jean. Speaking of Jean, Longshot noticed she was missing. That seemed really strange, because Jean had amazing powers. She could move things with her mind and read people’s minds and do a lot of other really interesting and powerful things. 

 

“Scott?” Longshot asked, knowing he was pretty busy, but really wanting an answer. “Is Jean not coming?” He also wanted Jean to come because she was probably the person that was Longshot’s best friend on the team. She’d done a lot to help him in a very short time. It also seemed strange because he knew that Scott loved Jean. Longshot wondered if Scott wanted to keep Jean safe, but the fact was it turned out they weren’t totally safe anywhere. 

 

Longshot would rather have had Rita by his side than left behind somewhere, even if it was safer. However, it was rude to speculate too much until he’d heard from Scott that Jean wasn’t actually coming. Maybe she was just late, though Jean wasn’t late for other things that were less important.  _ Maybe she’s sick. She didn’t seem sick yesterday but it can happen fast. Rita got a disease once and she got really sick really quickly. If that’s true, I should try and write her a card. That’s what people do when people are sick, right? Write cards. Oh, and make chicken soup. Maybe I can get some help with that. I don’t know how to make chicken soup.  _

 

“Jean’s got to stay back and help coordinate the mission. She’s the only one that can run Ce- the device we’re going to use to track Wanda and Kurt.” Scott looked around to make sure that everyone was there before he continued talking. “This is going to be very dangerous, make no mistake. We’re going to Latveria to rescue our friends, who we believe to be in the custody of Doctor Doom. We’re on a rescue mission. First and foremost. The less we have to fight this time, the better. We’ll do what we have to, but once our people are safe? We’re out.” 

 

“Well, it’s not every day that we get to cause an international incident. Sounds like a marvellous way to spend an afternoon.” Betsy replied sarcastically, which was a really common way for her to speak. She was sarcastic a lot, just like Wanda was sarcastic a lot. Betsy was extremely pretty, but Longshot wished that she was nicer. It was strange, though, because when he thought, randomly, of pretty girls, he found he was thinking about Rogue as often as he thought about Rita. 

 

“Elisabeth, this is serious.” Piotr replied and Longshot got the sense that he didn’t overly appreciate the sarcastic jibe. Longshot didn’t know Piotr as well as some of the others at the Mansion, but he seemed to be really brave and strong and made incredibly pretty pictures. Longshot liked to draw sometimes too, but even though Jean said the picture he’d drawn was very good, they weren’t anywhere nearly as good as Piotr’s pictures- though the ones with naked girls in them made him feel a little funny, like when he and Rita had kissed a lot. 

 

“If I didn’t take it seriously, I wouldn’t be here.” Betsy replied and Longshot got the idea that maybe they weren’t getting along so well at the time. Maybe they’d had a fight. He remembered having a fight with Rita once, but they’d had to make up really fast because they were chased by those horrible wasps right in the middle of it. In any case, he hoped the two of them would make up soon. It didn’t feel good to fight with people you cared about. Or people you liked. 

 

Longshot hoped that Rogue was doing okay. 

 

It didn’t take long for everyone to get into their seats and buckle up for the plane to take off, roaring into the skies, to a place called Latveria that he’d never heard of. He wondered what it would look like. He looked around at the people on the plane with him. Ororo looked tense on the aircraft and Longshot wondered if she was fighting with someone too, though she wasn’t with anyone to fight. Logan had stopped smoking, which was nice. He looked fine. Piotr and Betsy weren’t quite looking at each other, which was not the way they usually were with each other. Longshot hoped they didn’t break up, even if a small part of him thought that maybe Piotr could find someone nicer.

 

Scott looked tenser than usual and Longshot wondered if he missed Jean. Longshot didn’t like Jean like that- she was more of a really good friend, but if he was with her, he’d miss her too. In fact, he actually kind of missed her anyway. She had maybe been nicer than anyone else to him. Longshot found himself thinking about Rogue again. To tell the truth, he’d been thinking a lot about her. She’d been through a lot.

 

Longshot wanted to get to know her better, but Logan and Jean had both told him to wait a bit. He could do that. 

  
Right now, they had friends to rescue. Hopefully Kurt didn’t get kidnapped again for a long time after this. 


	33. Erik IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magneto unfurls his master plan. 
> 
> The idea of 'mutant names' is muted. 
> 
> Magneto is a terrible friend and dad.

Everything was going according to plan, or at least, acceptably so. 

 

Erik would have preferred that Raven had not been captured and he didn’t at all like the defiant tone the foolish children at her house at taken with him- but if they had any competence at all, they’d easily be able to free her from SHIELD before she got aboard a Helicopter or imprisoned in the Vault. Most of Charles’ more capable students were gone, on a wild-goose chase to Latveria. Erik suspected they’d soon enough find themselves cooling their heels in a Latverian prison for a suitable length of time. Long enough, perhaps, to come to terms with the magnitude of their failure. 

 

The Avengers were currently missing in action, battling, according to what Erik had gleaned, some manner of extradimensional conqueror. He suspected they’d be back soon enough, but what mattered was that they were gone for now. They could not interfere with him. The Fantastic Four were in space. He had nothing to fear from SHIELD or their minions, or from anything the American military could throw at him. In any case, the political authorities would have enough to deal with soon enough. 

 

“Erik, don’t. I implore you … this is going to result in a catastrophe” Erik turned around to see Charles Xavier, looking up at him from the cell he’d been placed in, most of his head and face covered in an adamantium helmet which blocked his telepathic powers, not that Erik feared much from telepathy anyway. Even without his own helmet, even the most powerful of telepaths could get inside his mind, not with the constant ferment of electromagnetic activity in his brain. 

 

“The catastrophe will happen one way or the other.” Erik replied with a faint smile. “The war was always going to happen, but now, I’m in full control of events. The Avengers, the Fantastic Four, they’re gone. Your students, at least the ones who are mature enough to even theoretically be a threat to me, are off on a fool’s crusade. Don’t worry- part of my bargain of convenience with the good Doctor was that he use non-lethal force only to bring them to heel. They’ll be as safe in his custody as anywhere.” 

 

“This is madness, Erik. Utter madness.” Charles grasped the bars of his cell and pressed his face as close to them as possible. “How many people will die? How many mutants, even? How many will be killed in retaliatory attacks? Do you really, truly believe that the world’s governments will give up without a fight? What about the Sentinels, Erik? You can’t be everywhere at once.” 

 

Erik laughed at that, a long and hearty laugh which no doubt left Charles confused. “The Sentinels. It’s funny that you mention them. I assure you, they won’t be a threat to me.” Erik glanced out the viewscreen to where the sun was setting down over the sky. “Almost sundown.” He switched the view to that of New York City, while other monitors showed Boston, Philadelphia, Washington DC and several other cities. “When night falls, 100 million people will be plunged into complete darkness. Men are like rats, Charles. They’ll panic. They’ll smell blood. The authorities will be dumbstruck. The stock market will collapse utterly. The global economy will collapse like a house of cards. There will be riots. Fires. I won’t need to attack any of those cities- they’ll do far more damage than I ever could simply fighting amongst themselves.” 

 

“Listen to yourself, Erik.” Charles gripped the bars hard, his gaze and tone, stern, authoritative. It was almost impressive, but without his telepathic powers, trapped as he was, Charles was utterly impotent. Erik had seen to it, furthermore, that his most daunting asset, the sizeable body of powerful mutants that foolishly continued to pledge loyalty to him, was scattered to the winds. At the Institute now would be left a handful of the youngest students. If they had any sense, they would simply stay at home. The Institute’s lights wouldn’t go out with the rest of the Northeast and most of the Midwest. “This isn’t you. I know you’ve always wanted to stand up for mutant rights, but this sounds like megalomania. It isn’t too late.” 

 

“Not too late for what? To turn myself in? To the mercy of a human government that I do not recognize? Never.” Erik snarled suddenly, gesturing with his hand to send Charles towards the opposite wall of the cell, fixed utterly to it by his magnetic powers. He sighed and gently released Charles. “You should have joined me, you should be here by my side, instead of there. You were a soldier once too, you understand that sometimes there can be no compromise.” 

 

“I cannot. I will not. Our only chance is in coexistence and peace. For all humanity, mutant or not.” Erik supposed that in a way, he had to admire Charles’ dedication to his ideals, even if they were foolish. “Erik, please, if you ever considered me a friend-” 

 

_ Friend. Some friend. You cast me out of your house. You’ve been plotting to oppose me this whole time.  _ Erik turned towards Charles then and instead of an old friend, he made himself see an enemy, a dangerous opponent. It was easier that way.  _ He deserves no more consideration than any other misguided mutant. I haven’t killed him, even though it would be easy. He would give me no greater courtesy if I were in his place.  _ “I did, once. I loved you like a brother and then you cast me out like a leper. You followed your road to ruin, despite my warnings. I tried to tell you, Charles, but you’re blind. You could not see what was right in front of you.” 

 

“You don’t seem to remember  _ why  _ I told you to leave.” Charles spoke up, his tone acidic. “You were planning on using children, including my  _ son,  _ to make a point to me. Every step along this glorious path you’ve trod, Erik, you’ve been treading on young people. What about those children you sent to fight my students, who were also children? What if that truck bomb your terrorist friend sent through my front gate had killed Kitty or Bobby? She’s fourteen. He’s sixteen. What if it had killed  _ Wanda?  _ You could not have known for certain that she was going to be successfully captured.”

 

“Watch your tongue, Charles.” Erik snapped, but the glare that Xavier gave him indicated that he had no particular intention of stopping. 

 

“Doesn’t it say something about how glorious your supposed mission is that you can’t accomplish it with your children at your side? You had to send off Wanda to captivity in Latveria and where is Pietro right now?” Perhaps Charles had decided that reasoning with him wasn’t working anymore, so he decided to simply get whatever digs he could in. Erik tired of listening to the man prattle and pushed him backwards into the cell again, shifting the bars to a solid grate with his powers. The bars were lined with vibranium so he couldn’t even hear Charles knocking on them. 

 

_ They’ll understand when I am finished. Wanda will understand, she may be stubborn, but she’s not a fool. And Pietro and his friends simply need to get their moment of defiance out of their system.  _ Erik turned back towards the viewscreen, at the magnificent skylines of the great cities of the Eastern United States and Canada. Soon, it would be dark and he would step inside the pulse amplifier, the resulting EMP creating a chain reaction that would put tens of millions of people in constant darkness. He didn’t doubt that people would come looking for him at that point, but all they would find was Charles in his prison and hopelessly ruined controls. 

 

Erik himself would already be gone, having moved on to his real target, the military base at Cape Citadel, where a large stock of ICBMs were kept, ones that he could easily reconfigure to attack any targets he desired, if the world did not meet his conditions. They were modest, in his opinion, the declaration of Genosha as a mutant state and the immediate cessation of all mutant registration and control plans. The dismantlement of the Vault. The establishment of a program by which the human population of Genosha could be safely sent elsewhere in exchange for the mutant diaspora. 

 

_ Reasonable conditions that no one should refuse. I do not, as of yet, even demand the entire world, just a small corner of it. And yet, they’ll still resist, even in the face of a potential Armageddon. _

 

_ Erik. Why am I still calling myself that? It was not my birth name. It does nothing to describe me. It says nothing.  _

 

_ I am not Erik Lehnsherr. I am Magneto and I shall be known as such forevermore.  _

 

The remaining hour or so before the fall of darkness was spent in last minute preparations, ensuring that everything was working with the pulse amplifier, that nothing could possibly go wrong. Hidden as he was inside the telepathy-suppressing metallic shell of the room, Magneto saw fit to release the restraining helmet around Charles. Food and water would be sent in as well.  _ There is no particular value in being cruel.  _

 

At the same time, however, Magneto had placed a screen in the cell for Charles to watch. He wanted Charles to see the great cities of North America to go dark, witness the chaos that would result. Magneto also wanted Charles to see the declaration that he would make to the world just before a large portion of it was plunged into darkness. Just as he wanted Charles to see what he had wrought, he wanted the whole world to know the name of the man who had brought it virtually to its knees. 

 

His thoughts were interrupted for a moment, however, by the buzzing of the comm system.  _ Raven? Pietro?  _ He pressed the button to see who it was. 

 

“Hey Dad. I just thought you’d like to know, that Raven’s with us. We busted the SHIELD convoy.” 

 

Magneto was glad to hear of that at least, though now that he thought about it, he wanted any mutants who were following him to have proper names, ones that reflected their mutant identities. As for their defiance, Magneto was prepared to forgive it in light of the fact that they’d rescued Raven. Pietro- hm, he’d have to think of a better name for the boy, didn’t seem to still be angry. Perhaps a reminder of the real enemy was precisely what they needed. In any case, they would understand soon enough, the necessity of what he did. 

 

“Good. Take a vehicle and go south. Don’t stop until you hit Caldecott County, Mississippi. Raven will know where you’re going. The Northeast is going to become a very dangerous place. Is Dominic there, Pietro?” 

 

“... yeah, okay, I guess. He’s here. Sure you don’t want to talk to Raven first?

 

“I will. But I’d like to speak to Dominic first.” Pietro was seemingly hesistant to transfer the phone over, but soon enough, he heard it, alongside some whispered conversation. 

 

“Hey.” The voice on the phone sounded guarded and wary, but not hostile. Magneto was increasingly feeling that he could safely write off the flareup at the House earlier as a moment of juvenile defiance brought on by frayed nerves, on both sides. Perhaps he had been a little excessively unkind to them. They needed more training, certainly, and discipline, but they had clearly succeeded in liberating Raven. Magneto was willing to forgive quite a bit on that account. 

 

“Hello Dominic. Were you the one that planned the rescue operation?” Dominic had always impressed Magneto as the most intelligent and ambitious of the mutants at Raven’s house. He doubted that Pietro was really up to any serious tactical planning. He hadn’t really thought any of them were, but he was willing to wager that it was Dominic that provided the leadership.  _ I love Pietro, but a leader he is not.  _ He knew that it was perhaps wrong to wish that it had been Wanda who had followed him.  _ I shouldn’t disparage the poor boy. He followed me. Wanda didn’t. He has loyalty to his family if nothing else.  _

 

“We planned it together.” Dominic was cautious on the phone, clearly not wanting to set himself above the others. “Look. I’m not going to lie and say that I’m still happy about everything that happened. But we’re here to fight for mutantkind. We don’t want to run. There’s gotta be something for us to do.” 

 

“I appreciate the candor.” Magneto replied. He had to laud that at least. “Very well. There will most likely be a great many mutants caught up in the chaos that will happen in the New York metropolitan area. The House has back-up generators. I want you to assist mutants in the area as best you can and harass authorities. Raven will take leadership there, but I’m expecting that you will be actively assisting her. Are you ready to make that commitment, Dominic?” 

 

“... yeah. I’m ready.” Dominic replied. “You want to talk to Raven now?” 

 

“I do.” Magneto paused for a moment. “And, Dominic? Think of a proper mutant name. Tell the others the same thing. Likewise, I don’t want to be called Mr. Lehnsherr or Erik anymore. I’m Magneto. Pass the phone to Raven, please.” Once again, he heard the phone transferred over, with a little whispered conversation. 

 

“Well, it’s happening, isn’t it? Dom told me that I’m supposed to call you Magneto now and that we’re all supposed to come up with codenames like we’re the terrorist Avengers or something.” Raven’s irreverence was something that he found grating on most other people, but strangely refreshing from her. “So I hear we’re supposed to help make life hard for the authorities in the New York metro. Pretty fucking easy job there, seeing as the lights are going out. How long do we have till there’s chaos in the streets.” 

 

“About half an hour now. I’m waiting until dark. If you want to be at the House when everything goes dark, you’ll want to hurry.” 

 

“Yeah, we’re on our way already.” Raven paused for a moment. “Still not really okay with all the shit that’s gone down. You got a lot of fucking making up to do. To me. To your kids. To all of us. But this isn’t the time. War’s on. We can deal with our personal shit later.” 

 

“I understand.” Magneto replied quietly. “I love you, Raven. I’d do anything for you. Don’t doubt that for a moment.” 

  
“I love you too, asshole.” Raven replied and he could easily see the smirk that was spreading across her face, though he didn’t doubt that she was honestly still angry at him. “I’m taking the kids back into New York. And then we’ll make sure the hell you raised stays nice and hot. And when this is all over, you’re going to kiss my angry blue ass until I say I’m feeling better about it. And try to fix all our horribly decayed family relationships. All right, we’d better go. Talk to you soon. Get those lips puckered.” 

 

Magneto clicked off the communicator and looked out at the viewscreen. It was almost time for him to make his declaration to the world. The few heroes that might have stood a chance of stopping him were otherwise occupied. The resources of the government, inadequate as they were, were soon to be desperately scattered throughout. The half hour or so that remained seemed to stretch out into eternity.  _ The time is nearly at hand.  _

 

Magneto took a breath and with it, assembled his costume, crimson and royal purple, assembled out of a vibranium mesh with a few stronger plates of the material. His helmet was wrought from adamantium, proof against telepathy and against virtually any strike to the head. The force-negation abilities of his armour gave him effective superhuman durability- no bullet could penetrate it, nor would the force of it register as anything beyond merely uncomfortable.  _ They won’t know what hit them. And this, this is simply my opening stroke. I will have a mutant nation, or they will have Armageddon.  _

 

_ It is their choice.  _

 

He pressed the button and suddenly every television signal in the area had been hijacked and was replaced with his own visage, glowering down at them. 

 

“I am Magneto. For too long, mutants have been oppressed and persecuted, maimed and murdered while the governments of the world did nothing. Tonight, tonight that ends. Tonight the great cities of America go dark. We will no longer be oppressed. We will no longer passively tolerate your abuse. We no longer recognize the sovereignty of human governments. 

 

24 hours from now, I expect the governments of the world to cede mutants a homeland of their own. I will be in communication with world leaders in the hours to follow. 

 

Mutants of the world, remember that this is your day. Your day to rise up, to strike back. Your day to demand what is yours. Stand with me and soon, we will have a homeland.” 

 

Magneto took a breath and pressed the button. The screens showing the skylines of New York, Boston, Philadelphia and Washington DC went blank immediately. Magneto knew that the failures would cascade over the next hour, as far as Toronto and Chicago. All hell would break out almost immediately in every one of those cities. By the time that power had been restored, he would be in possession of two or three dozen nuclear weapons capable of attacking any location on the planet. 

 

_ Tonight, Charles, your foolish dream dies and the mutant race takes its first step towards sovereignty.  _

  
  
  
  



	34. The Earth-Breaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because what this fic needed was ANOTHER POV. 
> 
> EAT YOUR HEART OUT GRR MARTIN. 
> 
> Also, the Brotherhood rescue Raven! We knew it happened already, but now we get to see it!

“What’d you see, Pietro?” Dom asked as Pietro dashed in, the wind kicked up from the blur of motion bitingly cold.  _ Hell of a time of year for all this to go down. Goddammit.  _ Pietro came to a stop and moved up towards where Dom was standing on the bluff. The kid looked like nothing so much as a younger, skinnier version of his dad, with the same silvery hair and intense blue eyes. He didn’t have the arrogance of his father though, the same ironclad confidence in his powers.  _ Insecure as fuck, actually.  _

 

“The convoy’s headed this way. We’ll make contact with it in two minutes or so. Four vehicles. Armoured. I’m guessing there’s about five armed men in each one, along with drivers. One’s got a heavy gun on top. Didn’t see Raven, but that’s not exactly fucking surprising.” Pietro looked down from the bluff towards the road where the convoy would be coming soon. “So is the plan still gonna work?” 

 

“Nothing on wheels is gonna cross that road.” Dom set down the binoculars he’d been using to scope out the road. “Watch this shit.” He gave a cocksure grin and reached out his hands. It didn’t actually do anything, he didn’t think, but Dom had found that it was easier to focus his powers when he did something with his arms, with his hands. He felt the power calling out to him, waves going through his body, moving into the earth below, shaking the ground around him like a four-point earthquake and creating a split down in the road below, one that widened, as jagged bits of bedrock started appearing from below. 

 

“... holy motherfuck.” Tabby whispered from behind him and it was easy for Dom to imagine her eyes widening behind those sunglasses and her jaw going slack. “That was fucking amazing.” 

 

The earth continued to buckle and shake, hard enough that a few of them were stumbling around on it. Dom’s eyes rolled back slightly as the power he was wielding reached near his limits.  _ Just gotta hold a little longer.  _ Waves of force pushed out larger and larger spurs of rock from the shattered remnant of the highway.  _ Almost there. Wider, now.  _ Every part of his body was vibrating now as the isolated spurs became a solid wall, some five feet thick, with its crest about fifteen feet in the air, anchored by the bluff where they were positioned and by another rocky spur near them. 

 

When Dom stopped focusing and the earth stopped shaking, he felt his eyes flutter as he slumped towards the ground, John and Pietro moving up quickly to catch him. He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes for a moment only to open them again and give a thumbs up. “Told you that shit was worth watching.” He’d have a bit of a headache, but it was more than worth it. No one was getting past that roadblock unless they brought mountaineering equipment. “Now, Johnny? Light that shit up. Fred, get down there and soak up bullets. Morty, Tabby, you’re taking out as many hostiles as you can. Pietro?” 

 

“Yeah.” Pietro nodded. “Pop open the vehicles and get Raven out, before we blow this fucking joint.” He took a breath. “Sounds like a decent plan.” He looked down at the road below. “Point of no return for us, you know. That’s SHIELD. We won’t be living that down anytime soon.” Another breath. “This is it. This is really it.” Dom wasn’t quite sure if he was psyching himself up or talking himself down.  _ We gotta do something about that.  _

 

“Raven is like a fucking mom to us. And those clownfucks driving up would be after us just for being mutants. Mutant Registration Act.” Dom took a breath himself. “Anyone wants to go, fine. Go. But I’m staying right here and I’m gonna save Raven and look hella sexy awesome doing it. So y’all might want to stay and see that happen.” Nobody seemed to disagree with that. There were lots of nods. “All right, let’s go fuck up a SHIELD convoy.” He could hear them coming now. Fred started bounding down the bluff. Morty and Tabby were getting into position. Pietro was as well. That left John, who was better up on the bluff, creating a widening field of flames around the wreckage with the help of the flamethrowers Raven had designed for him and Dom himself. 

 

The armoured vehicles in the convoy stopped well short of the roadblock as Dom had expected. Their first instinct, probably, was to stay inside the vehicles until they called appropriate backup. Helicopters, perhaps. Aircraft deployed from a Helicarrier possibly, though there wasn’t any particularly close to their current location. The flames from John’s flamethrowers whirled and danced, forming into something resembling a dragon and Dom knew that John could concentrate his flames enough that they had something like actual mass. When the dragon hurtled into one of the vehicles, it was knocked backwards. 

 

Armed men were beginning to pour out of the vehicles and that’s when they noticed Fred, who ran at them as quickly as he could- admittedly not very fast. They opened fire at the target they could see, spending valuable ammunition, wasting it on someone who was not in the slightest bit vulnerable to them. It’d taken multiple blows from the tin Russian to leave bruises on Fred’s face, the mostly small-arms fire from their guns weren’t going to do any harm to him. Fred slammed into another one of the vehicles, knocking it aside. 

 

With the attention of the soldiers inside the vehicle largely on Fred, Morty and Tabby were able to move around a bit, Tabby throwing her grenade-like bombs, this particular ones cooked up with as much light and flash as explosive power- disorienting the soldiers as much as hurting them. Mortimer, well, he seemed pretty milquetoast most of the time, but there was something pretty impressive about seeing him in action. Dom swore he could practically feel the pain in his chest as Toad dropkicked a soldier, sending him hurtling fifteen feet into the back of one of the vehicles. One of the soldiers was just about to level his gun at Morty, but a tremor knocked him down onto the ground before he could fire, and immediately thereafter, Mortimer finished the job by landing on him on the way to take out a soldier that was firing at Tabby. 

 

John continued to rain down fire and Dom continue sending tremors through the earth where the SHIELD men were concentrated, knocking them off their feet. Once they were on the ground, it was easy for Morty or Fred to take them out. Pietro continued weaving his way through the fight, occasionally stopping to punch one of the soldiers, but mostly trying to get to the vehicles, to check them and see if Raven was in there. 

 

Dom watched Pietro disappear into a vehicle for a quick moment and then, a few seconds later, the vehicle roaring to life, a familiar blue form taking over the heavy gun, raking the other vehicles.  _ He’s got her. Good.  _ “Okay everyone, let’s finish this and get out of here.” He called out, not too worried now about giving away his position. They were pretty much finished anyway. 

 

Dom moved out closer to the lip of the bluff, creating sinkholes to trap the other vehicles in as his comrades started picking off the remaining men standing, one by one. Pietro moved swiftly among them, laying out most of them with single blows, while Fred bowled over a group, sending them flying like bowling pins. The rest of it took only a minute or so. With the scene more or less cleared, Dom and John began to move off the bluff. 

 

Raven grinned down at them from the top of the one vehicle that remained there. “Hey guys, thanks for the save. Five out of five. Would be rescued again.” She hopped down from the turret and ran over to hug each of them in turn, going over to Dom last. Dom couldn’t help but laugh as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging her back. It was such a strange, almost familial moment, to happen amid the wreckage of several vehicles and the unconscious bodies of several soldiers, which would be sleeping for awhile, thanks to the bio-toxin in Morty’s saliva. 

 

“So who planned this?” Raven looked at Pietro and Dom. “Because … that was pretty sweet. Nicely done.” 

 

“We planned it together.” Dom replied quickly, before Pietro could say anything to the contrary. “All of us. We couldn’t stand the idea of having you be a prisoner. Mr. Lehnsherr’s probably not all that happy with us right now. Bit of a fight before we left, but well … you know what? Let’s talk about it away from all this flaming wreckage.” He could feel the headache coming on, the same one he always got when he used his powers more. 

 

“I should contact Dad. He’ll want to know about this.” Pietro took a breath and then looked at Dom. “I know that things weren’t great there before, and fuck, I think we were right too, but we should let him know.” Dom didn’t particularly want to talk to Lehnsherr at the moment, but Pietro was right. Besides, he knew that the man had big plans and it might be important that he know the situation. Dom nodded. 

 

“Yeah, call your dad.” Dom wondered if he was going to have to talk to Lehnsherr himself. He didn’t particularly want to, but he wasn’t going to shrink from it. The way he was seeing it, honestly, his problems were more with the way that he went about things.  _ The world is fucked and people hate us, that’s definitely true. And I don’t want to be a martyr.  _ People always talked about how great Martin Luther King and Gandhi were, but they’d died for their ideals and Dom didn’t feel like dying for his. He’d fight and stay alive. The dice had already been thrown anyway. It’d probably been thrown since birth. 

 

The conversations were fairly short and, honestly, somewhat more pleasant than Dom was expecting. Lehnsherr- well it was  _ Magneto  _ now, seemed to be at least a little impressed with their initiative and from what he’d gathered from Raven, he’d kind of, almost, apologized for his poor attitude before. The ride back in the stolen armoured vehicle back to the House was pretty quiet. There wasn’t a lot of room in the vehicle once Fred had been accommodated- he occupied the entire holding cell portion that would hold four normal people, so Tabby had ended up on his lap and Johnny was on Pietro’s. 

 

“About ten minutes after we get back, all hell is gonna break loose.” Raven cautioned as she looked up into the rearview mirror. “The lights are all going out. From Toronto to Washington DC, it’s going to be dark. Hospitals and some government buildings are gonna have backup generators, but just about everything else is going to be completely dark out there. Might take a short while for things to filter to our neck of the woods, but we’ll be going out there pretty quickly afterwards. For the next while, we’re resting during daylight hours, going out at night. Night is when we have the best cover and do the most damage. Erik- Magneto, Magneto tells me that we have about twenty-four hours. There’s not a lot of superheroes in town, either. The Avengers are gone and so are the Fantastic Four.” 

 

“There’s some dude in a ridiculous red-and-blue costume who strings people up with silly string, apparently.” John snarked before impulsively turning to kiss Pietro. “Good work. Almost as good as me. You see that dragon. That was some real Targaryen shit right there. Third head of the dragon right here.” John laughed as Pietro rolled his eyes, but then kissed him again. Dom couldn’t help but grin. If the two of them were hooking up, he was as happy for them as anyone.  _ Both of them have had pretty shitty lives, make mine look pretty damn easy.  _

 

He supposed some people would say that he’d had a rough childhood, with a mother that ran out on him and his dad when he was only seven and a dad that was, well, to call George Petros a drunk was an understatement. Dom liked to joke sometimes that his dad was the town drunk- and that wasn’t always so bad, except that the town was New York City. It could have been a lot worse, Dom knew. John’s parents both abused him, beat him, constantly insulted him. His dad tried the best he could to hold down jobs and provide, but alcohol kept winning. 

 

Dom still called Dad every once in awhile, though he didn’t say a lot about what he was doing. He sometimes asked questions when he was sober, but when he was drunk, he’d swallow whatever bullshit Dom made up.  _ He’s not a bad guy, really, just weak.  _ Dom looked over at Morty, curled up by himself in a seat, looking out the window.  _ Now that’s a kid who’s had a brutal childhood.  _ Neither Raven or Morty had ever been forthcoming with too many details, but Dom just knew that he was abused way worse than even John had been.

 

The way that Morty shrunk from even incidental physical contact with just about everyone made Dom want to find every motherfucker who hurt him and bury them alive. He felt doubly bad for the kid because he knew that Rogue had been his only really good friend and now she was gone. Dom had wondered for a bit if he would have wanted to join Xavier’s just to be around her, but that’d never happened. He suspected there was too much rage boiling deep inside Morty for that to happen. 

 

Dom didn’t have anything against the kids from the Institute- who were probably all cool people that he’d like to be friends with if they didn’t believe in something different.  _ I hate the idea of expending my effort fighting them. We should be finding a way to work together to fight for mutants. Not fighting each other.  _ He leaned back into the seat, wrapping an arm idly around Tabby. 

 

“I need a shower. Fighting is sweaty work.” Tabby murmured. “Wanna join me, fearless leader?” She tilted her face up slightly to grin at him. 

 

“I’m not a leader.” Dom replied, but couldn’t help grinning. “But like I’m gonna refuse an invitation like that. A shower sounds good. Hit the town in a brand new set of clothes.” Dom leaned down slightly and planted a couple of lazy little kisses on her throat. 

 

“Whatever. You bring you and your magic fingers and you can call yourself whatever you want.” Tabby smirked. “So, what’s your fancy new mutant name gonna be? We’re all supposed to pick one, right? Pietro should be Roadrunner or something, but pretty much whatever else is free, I guess. Shake N’ Bake?” She grinned slightly teasingly. 

 

“Fuck you, Tabby, I’m not gonna be Roadrunner.” Pietro retorted, rolling his eyes. 

 

“You did once but then you decided you liked dicks better.” Tabby replied with a teasing smirk. “Speedy Gonzales then.” 

 

Dom thought about it for a moment. He wanted it to be something cool, a little intimidating. Something that had something to do with his powers, naturally. It came to him pretty quickly. “Avalanche.” Dom looked around to see how everyone reacted. “I’m gonna be Avalanche.” 

 

“Nice.” Johnny replied with a grin. “I’m Pyro.” 

 

“You’ve been a fucking Pyro since you were born.” Dom countered with a grin. “So that’s two. Anyone else? What about you, Raven?” 

 

“Oh, probably some bullshit like  _ Mystique _ . Because I’m so fucking mysterious.” Raven grinned brightly. “And Pietro- hold on. Quicksilver. Because of the silver hair and being fast. Quicksilver.” 

 

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Pietro shrugged and leaned back, whereupon John- and Dom had to admit it was pretty damn adorable- leaned his head on Pietro’s shoulder. 

 

“Call me Boom-Boom, because I got the boom-boom booty.” Tabby punctuated the point by shifting herself around in Dom’s lap. When everyone just kind of stared at her, she shrugged. “Whatever. It’s a dumb deal, anyway. We’re not supervillains or anything, right?” 

 

“Pretty sure that’s exactly what we are now.” John observed.

 

“No lapdances in the stolen car.” Raven glanced up at the mirror. “We’ll have a short while for everyone to get up on everyone’s dicks. I mean, you should probably rest or something, actually. But I know most of you are just going to end up fucking, so I’m just gonna say- quickly. And I mean, I hate to be that person. But you guys can’t be getting fucked up on anything. We’ll be out raising hell in short order. I’m not dealing with anyone’s drunk or stoned ass while we’re doing that.” 

“Well, shit.” John whistled. “There go my plans. No weed for us tonight.” 

 

“I just want a decent meal.” Fred bellowed from the back. 

 

Dom noticed Morty for a moment, looking disconsolately out of the window. He took a breath. “What about you?” 

 

“I just want Rogue to come back.” Morty replied. 

 

“That makes two of us.” Raven looked up at the mirror again. Her tone was different, though. “She’s coming back, she’ll be back. I promise you that.” 


	35. Wanda V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kidnapping with a kidnapping? 
> 
> WE MUST GO DEEPER
> 
> But in seriousness, Kurt and Wanda try to escape and take an unexpected detour. 
> 
> Doom's not so easy to escape ...

It had all sounded like some grand adventure when they’d thought of it together, like some thrilling scene in one of the old black & white adventure movies that Kurt loved so much and that Wanda was beginning to develop a taste for. It was hard not to when he was so transparently enthusiastic about them- with all the miserable and awful things they’d both been through, there was something really wonderful about something that was simply silly and entertaining. 

 

The reality, however, was different in two very significant ways. The first was that it was actually rather frightening trying your best to hang onto your boyfriend as he loped on all fours, leaping over obstacles, dodging a variety of deadly-looking energy blasts all the way. Wanda tried her best to throw some hex bolts, but it was hard to aim with any degree of precision. Kurt was pretty fast, but he wasn’t the most stable of mounts. 

 

It was worse when he teleported.  _ I adore you, Fuzzbutt, but I really loathe teleporting with you.  _ It felt like that particular lurch in your stomach just before a big drop on a roller coaster, or the twinge of motion sickness she would occasionally get if she was foolish enough to do a lot of reading in a moving car. That’s how it started and then there was a brief terrifying moment of primordial darkness, before another horrid lurch and the disorientation of being somewhere entirely different. They’d had to teleport enough times now that her head was swimming. 

 

Wanda was starting to have a hard time holding on and she was beginning to curse all the times that she’d blown off time at the gym and relied simply on her powers in training sessions.  _ Scott always told me that my being out of shape was going to bite me in the ass.  _ But she didn’t dare let go, no matter how much her arms were starting to ache from holding on.  _ I’m not going to get anywhere on my own. Can’t run for shit.  _ When she got back to the Institute, she was going to have to get serious about getting fit. 

 

They’d have to make it first. The castle was just about as labyrinthine as Wanda would have thought, with seemingly endless hallways and a seemingly endless number of guards, both humans and robots of various kinds. Thankfully, they seemed to have been trained at the Imperial Stormtrooper Academy of Marksmanship, because they hadn’t hit either of them yet. It probably helped that Kurt wasn’t limited to loping along the floor- he could run along walls and even, at one point, on the ceiling. 

 

Wanda looked up and saw a ray of light, actual daylight.  _ A way out?  _ It was pretty high up, but surely Kurt could just teleport up there and out the window. With difficulty, she removed one of her arms, gripping extra hard with the other one and pointed upwards. 

“There! Light! Actual daylight from the sun!” Wanda whispered into his ear, hoping, hoping that it was a way actually out and maybe they could take a moment or two to rest and get their bearings. Usually a pretty nocturnal creature, Wanda had almost never been happier to see actual sunlight as just then. Kurt seemed to get the message, because he leapt upwards and just as his feet left the ground, she felt the horrible lurching in her stomach and then the feeling of darkness swallowing her, that split second that felt like half of an eternity. 

 

To say that there was total darkness in whatever eldritch fluidic space that Kurt travelled through to teleport was an understatement- even in total darkness on Earth, Wanda perceived as simply an absence of light. This darkness was actual, physical, she could barely even feel Kurt, even though she was clinging onto him like a leech. It was semi-solid feeling, like the air on a very hot, very humid summer day, though it was cold, probably around the freezing point. 

 

That was when, for the slightest instant, Wanda felt something  _ watching.  _ A horrible chill ran down her spine as she realized that there were  _ things  _ in this darkness-between, like her boyfriend’s powers actually touched on some horrific Lovecraftian void between worlds. The instant ended as soon as it began and they were hurtling through the air, propelled by his jump, not having lost a fraction of the momentum that Kurt had made. She found herself clinging hard for different reasons now as Kurt latched onto the lip of the window and vaulted out of it, hurtling into the air some two hundred feet into the air, straight down. 

 

There was immediately another lurch from teleportation and suddenly Wanda was plunged into the cold black again.  _ Maybe I just imagined being watched. Maybe I just-  _ but now she outright screamed as she felt something grab at her. Kurt himself shouted out and tried to turn around, seemingly caught now in whatever this place was, and grab onto her, but all it did was start to pull him away too. She tried to struggle, but there was nothing for her to grab onto and whatever was grasping her- or  _ whoever,  _ it did feel like a hand, an actual  _ hand,  _ was plainly stronger than her and Kurt together. 

 

“Let go!” Wanda screamed at Kurt. “Let go of me! You’ll go through!” But of course, of  _ course,  _ Kurt didn’t let go, wouldn’t have dreamed of it. Wanda actually tried to shake him off, but he wasn’t going anywhere. There was a lurch from Kurt and Wanda knew how that he’d been grabbed as well, pulled by the same thing or person that had grabbed her. She couldn’t see him, of course, or whatever had grabbed them- the darkness was far too enveloping, but they were being pulled further down, inevitably. 

 

Wanda then felt a lurch in her stomach and she hoped against hope that Kurt had been able to teleport, but when they reappeared on a colossal hunk of rock framed by a burning sky, she knew that he hadn’t. The air stunk of brimstone and there was a low moaning in the background. Instead of incredible cold, she now felt reflected heat, just as she might if she were sitting in front of a campfire.  _ This isn’t a campfire, though. This is-  _ it certainly  _ looked  _ like Hell.

 

Wanda turned to see Kurt, his eyes wide with horror, his body shaking. She reached out to grab his hand and he grasped onto her desperately. Wanda squeezed his hand. 

 

“It’s not what it looks like. Hell is where bad people go when they  _ die,  _ right? We’re not dead. And not bad enough for Hell. It could be a trick or a trap that Doom made. They said that he had sorcery as well as magic.” Wanda squeezed his hand again, her eyes meeting his. “C’mon, Fuzzbutt, don’t fall apart on me. We’ve gotta think of some way out of this one. It’s just an illusion. Maybe he has a mutant with some sort of illusion powers.” 

 

“... perhaps, yes.” Kurt seemed less than certain and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head, though she wondered if maybe she was happier not knowing. If he truly thought they were dead and in Hell … Wanda put the thought of her head. The Kurt she knew wouldn’t be so judgemental and besides, she didn’t feel dead. The way that her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest and flop onto the ground suggested that she was still alive. The way that the sulphur stink and the remaining disorientation from teleportations made her want to puke seemed entirely too physical for a disembodied spirit. 

 

Wanda cast her head upwards. “How far do you think we were dragged? You … you see better in darkness than I do. Did you see anything?” Somehow she doubted it. That darkness was far too thick and powerful, it seemed, for anything like ordinary night vision to suffice. 

 

“It was red.” Kurt replied. “A hand. Red and terrible. Stronger than me. I tried to teleport us away, but I couldn’t.” He took a breath. “You’re right. I should … I’m sorry.” His face set as he tried to swallow his fear. “Are you all right?” It looked like at least some of that existential terror on his face had faded into anger. 

 

“Well, we’re caught in an incredibly unpleasant place that at least looks like Hell and whatever grabbed us is still out there and I feel like I’m going to puke, but yeah, other than that I’m okay.” Wanda gave his hand a squeeze. “You?” 

 

“Alive. I think. So … could be worse.” Kurt took a breath, but seemed to regret it as he started coughing. “I would feel better, though, if we were back at the Institute.” He looked up. “Maybe watching an old movie together. Though at this point, I’d take a math test.” He chuckled slightly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  _ The fear that he’s actually in Hell is still there at the back of his mind.  _ It was something that Wanda couldn’t understand, could never identify with. She was Jewish after a fashion, but had always been pretty iffy on the idea of afterlife and never thought of the possibility of some realm of infinite punishment. 

 

“I’d also feel a lot better if whatever bastard dragged us here were not lurking out there somewhere.” Wanda added, though she regretted saying it, because almost immediately- he, and it was a  _ he,  _ appeared. 

 

“Hello Kurt.” The figure who had taken them looked like nothing so much as a slightly bigger, more muscular Kurt recast in crimson flesh and malicious intent, a great red demon dressed almost hilariously in something akin to the kind of sexy pirate Halloween costume she kind of wanted to get Kurt in. Wanda summoned a hex bolt, playing with it in her hands. 

 

“You’re not real. Arcade created you.” Kurt frowned hard as he struck a fighting stance, though unlike when they’d been in Murderworld, Kurt didn’t have a sword this time, having just escaped Doom’s prison. She’d heard about his strange adventures, which he remembered seemingly perfectly. It kind of amused her that she’d basically ended up as Melisandre, though in Kurt’s fantasies, the Red Witch was a considerably more sympathetic figure than in that TV show. “Perhaps this is another one of his tricks.” 

 

“I’m not an illusion, boy.” The demon pirate drew blades, a long, jagged scimitar and a curved dagger. Wanda took that as a hostile gesture, so she hurled the hex bolt at him, which he dodged with a graceful roll. He grinned and charged towards them, disappearing in a flash of red-and-black smoke and before she could register fully what had happened, she felt the air explode out of her lungs as his foot found its way squarely into her gut. She saw, not far from her, Kurt disappear in his yellowish cloud of smoke and try to kick at the fiend, but the pirate was prepared and lashed out with his elbow. 

 

_ But not with his blades. He’s trying to take us alive. That means he’s holding back. Doesn’t mean I have to, though.  _ Wanda took a ragged gulp of air and tried to summon as much of whatever strange chaos magic she possessed and completely marinate this demon pirate in it. Charles had told her to be careful of directly hitting people with hex bolts, lest she trigger a heart attack or a stroke, but frankly, she didn’t care.  _ If he dies, good riddance.  _ Charles may have been disappointed by that sentiment, but it was the way she felt. 

  
Wanda saw the demon pirate sink to his knees for a second, but then almost immediately lash out with his tail, longer and thicker than Kurt’s own, wrapping around her neck and  _ squeezing.  _ Her hands desperately went to the coils around her throat, trying as hard as she could to pull them away from her face, but they were doing nothing. She heard a  _ bamf  _ then and took a huge gulp of air as she suddenly found herself on a chunk of rock that seemed to be floating above the one they were on before. 

 

She would’ve thanked Kurt, but she was too busy filling her lungs with precious oxygen, tainted as it may have been by brimstone to speak. Almost immediately, however, the demon pirate was on them again, teleporting in his own flash of hellfire and appearing before them. This time, however, he lacked his swords. He looked slightly shaky on his feet, as if the hex she’d hit him with had hurt him. Kurt struck a defensive pose in front of her as she struggled back onto her feet. 

 

“A beautiful woman, your witch.” The demon pirate spoke smugly, grinning and showing off sharpened teeth. “We should not be fighting, in truth. I would have thought you’d be happier, boy, to be reunited with your old father. You were happy enough about meeting your mother, terrorist that she is.” Wanda heard a low growl and realized, chillingly, that it was coming from Kurt _.  _ The words from the demon pirate were clearly enraging him, more than she’d ever seen him angry before.

 

For the first time ever, Kurt Wagner actually  _ looked  _ like a demon. 

 

“If you want me, here I am. Let her go, she needs not be part of this.” Kurt snarled, but as he said that, Wanda found her feet and moved beside him, summoning as much of her power as she could. 

 

“Like I’d leave you, Fuzzbutt.” Wanda let the demon pirate have it, a wave of scarlet energy, wreathing his form in the essence of chaos. He put out his hands in front of him as if trying to break a wave. Finding her strength, she pushed foward a step, the tide of crimson chaos pouring out like a tsunami, blotting out his form. She took a breath and realized that here, somehow, she was actually  _ more  _ powerful than she was on Earth. Continuing to blast the demon pirate, who was on his knees, with her scarlet hex power, she raised one of her hands away to bring a smaller mass of floating rock and smash it into his body as hard as she could, knocking him straight off the mass of stone. 

 

Wanda expected him to simply teleport away and emerge cacklingly triumphant right where she should. The barrage of crimson chaos ended and she put a finger to her lips as if blowing the smoke off of a gun. The demon pirate didn’t seem to be coming back. Wanda wondered if he would be killed by the fall or if he had simply given up to go find easier prey somewhere else. Kurt was staring at her, his eyes wide. 

 

“That was …” Kurt struggled to find words. “That was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

 

“I have.” Wanda answered, her hands falling to her sides. “I’ve seen it and I’ve felt it.” But it didn’t feel the same as it did when she was only eleven and completely losing control of her mind. She felt in control, not just of herself, but this entire place. “There’s something about this place … I can’t quite explain it, but it seems like my powers are greater here.” She concentrated again, summoning her powers and soon enough, she found that the massive floating platforms of rock were becoming a stairway. 

 

“What are you doing?” Kurt asked, looking up at the burning sky as the great stairway moved further and further up. 

 

“Building a goddamn stairway to heaven. Well, Earth, but  _ closer  _ to heaven.” Wanda replied. She closed her eyes for a moment, finding, firstly, that indeed, that song was stuck in her head and that secondly, maybe she just had to  _ imagine  _ a doorway back to her own realm for it to appear.  _ If I close my eyes and dream hard enough, perhaps I can.  _

 

_ There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home …  _

 

A blazing portal of light appeared at the top of the stairway. Wanda slipped her hand into Kurt’s and they started ascending together. 

 

“I … I knew you were powerful, but I had no idea …” Kurt took a breath. “Could you do things like this on Earth as well?” 

 

“I don’t know.” Wanda replied. “Maybe.” They reached the top. “Okay, Fuzzbutt, let’s find our way-” 

 

They rematerialized in a dimly lit chamber, richly appointed with priceless artistic works. A table sat before them and a figure in dark green robes stood in front of an ornate throne-like chair at the head of it.  _ Doctor Doom.  _ Wanda couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but she almost felt safer in the hell-dimension.  _ Perhaps his bark is worse than his bite, however.  _

 

“Welcome, Miss Lehnsherr, Herr Wagner.” A face- not masked, but  _ made  _ of some manner of liquid metal curved what passed for lips into a thin smile. “You’ll have to tell me all about the strange little detour you took out of my palace. You’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about it, of course.” Wanda immediately throw a hex bolt right into Doctor Doom’s face, but he gestured quickly and the hex bolt remained in the air, before he dissipated it with a wave. 

 

“There is no need for hostility. Your father asked me to keep you safe.” Another small gesture and they were pulled onto chairs. 

 

“Safe and imprisoned.” Wanda spat back, doing her best to glare at Doom’s metallic face. 

 

“Only because I knew you would not willingly consent to my custody. The truth is, Wanda, that you are, legally, a Latverian citizen.” Doom’s metallic face smiled more broadly. “You would have a place of great honour here. Someone as powerful as you?” A pause. “Beautiful as well.” There was a faint wistfulness, almost, to that voice, though it could have been affected. 

 

“What the hell do you mean? My mother was-” 

 

“-Latverian.” Doom replied. “A woman I cared for once. I am the last person who would sully her memory.” 

 

“If you cared so much for her mother-” Kurt began. 

 

“Do not test me, boy.” Doom’s voice sounded ominous for a moment before he gestured slightly and pulled the chairs in. “There is no need for this to be unpleasant. Your friends will be arriving shortly.” Another faint smile from thin, metallic lips. “No doubt your exertions have made you hungry.” Doom gestured again and platters of food beamed in, as if they were actually on an episode of  _ Star Trek,  _ along with a bottle of chilled wine and glasses. 

 

“Perhaps we can have a more civil conversation once you’ve eaten.” Doom said mildly. “And when your friends arrive, perhaps we can avoid something so unpleasant as a fight. I do not enjoy sullying myself unnecessarily. Your friends, of course, would come off much the worse. I am not obliged by honor to protect them, after all.

 

Do keep that in mind.” 


	36. Kitty V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty would rather go fight a super-powerful megalomaniac than deal with her issues at home. 
> 
> Probably because you can't punch family problems.

Kitty had been uncomfortably watching the news, with the headline story of a mutant attack on a SHIELD convoy carrying a prisoner implicated on the attack on the Xavier Institute in Westchester and the subsequent liberation of the prisoner. We shouldn’t have given her up to them. She would’ve been safer here. She wondered, though, if that would be really true, with so many people gone off to find Kurt and Wanda in Latveria. We would’ve put up a better fight at least. 

“Things just go from bad to worse, don’t they?” Bobby sighed as he stared at the news coverage and Kitty couldn’t disagree with her boyfriend’s assessment of the situation. Kitty sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. She absolutely hated not being able to do anything about it. She hated being fourteen years old and having to stay at the Institute and wait on other people. It made her feel useless and guilty at the same time. Underneath all that, though, was the knowledge that the Institute wasn’t as safe as it seemed. 

The phone lit up again. Kitty stared at it for a moment. 

“... you can’t avoid them forever. Your Dad’s got to be freaked out.” Bobby looked at the phone nervously, fidgeting his hands, like how he always did when he wanted to reach out for something or do something he knew he shouldn’t. It was the fifth time today that Kitty had heard the synth line for “Daddie Dearest” by Dazzler. She’d sent a text message saying that she was alright- when she was still in shock from grabbing Juggernaut’s helmet, but her father had hardly seemed reassured by it. She’d sent one to her mother too and she’d only tried to call once. 

“What exactly am I going to tell him, Bobby?” Kitty got up off her comfortable spot on Bobby. “He probably wants to bring me home to Chicago. I can’t do that. I can’t. If I do that, I’ll have to go and pretend that I’m not a mutant even though everyone probably knows. I’m not going back. He can’t make me.” Kitty gave the phone a defiant glare, as if it were actually her father’s face and not simply his number that appeared on the phone display. 

“... can’t he, though? I mean, the Professor isn’t going to keep you here if your father demands that you come back home. He can’t. This is at least kind of a legally sanctioned school. If he did, that’d be kidnapping.” Kitty hated it when Bobby made sense, particularly when the sense he was making was an unpleasant one. She very badly wanted to simply reject reality and substitute her own, where she wasn’t feeling so useless and frustrated. 

Where she wasn’t so afraid of going home. 

“I mean … obviously I don’t want you to go. But … I don’t know. It’s not safe here. It isn’t. That kinda stopped when a truck bomb crashed through our gate followed by a whole bunch of hostile mutants. Kurt’s been kidnapped like, twice, in just weeks. Wanda’s gone with him. The Professor isn’t here because he’s been kidnapped too. All the old and, like, trained people, pretty much- or what passes for them, are flying off to freaking Latveria to fight Doctor Doom.” Bobby squirmed in his chair as he spoke and it was hard for Kitty to get properly angry with him when she knew just how uncomfortable he was saying all this. 

“And I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t. This is it. My stepdad has made it very, very clear that I’m not welcome. And it wasn’t a good place anyway.” Bobby’s voice dropped off to a near mumble. He’d never quite openly come out and said that he’d been abused, but the signs were far too strong to ignore. Kitty still remembered how he’d cringed when she’d snapped at him. “And your dad, I mean, I just, he seems like a pretty cool guy. And you’d be safer in Chicago than here.” 

Kitty had to fight down an urge to snap at Bobby again, because the last thing on Earth she wanted to do was to run away, but she made herself remember that all he wanted was her to be safe. He does have a point. I do have a place to go that isn't’ here. Not many people can say that. The custody arrangements for her were still pending, but either way, even though it wouldn’t be the house she’d lived in most of her life, she’d have somewhere to go. 

Kitty took a breath and shifted away just a little, enough that she could look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to go. This is who I am and leaving here would mean turning my back on that. I know, I know I’m pretty lucky to have a place to go. But it’s not as easy as that. I don’t fit in there anymore. Mom’s moving on and Dad, I know Dad wants what’s best for me, but I can’t. I want to stay here. All my friends are here.” She offered a faint smile. “So’s my boyfriend, you know.” 

Bobby smiled back faintly. “He’s a pretty lucky guy.” 

“Even when I’m being an overdramatic brat?” Kitty teased back, her smile broadening slightly as she eased back into her comfortable perch on him. 

“Even then.” Bobby replied succinctly and kissed her cheek softly. Nope, not enough, Kitty decided and tilted her head so she could kiss him properly, soft and lingering. She felt Bobby’s arms wrapping around her and when he kissed her again, she eagerly deepened the kiss, wrapping her own arms around his neck. When they parted, she shifted herself slightly so she was on his lap. Maybe this is what the doctor ordered. Something to get my mind off of all this, even if it’s just for a little while … 

The television seemed to have other ideas though, as it suddenly went blank and was replaced with the visage of their former co-headmaster, dressed in the imperious and intimidating crimson and purple uniform he had created for himself. The whole thing looked something like a cross between the robes of some ancient emperor and futuristic battle armour. The most frightening part though, wasn’t anything to do with the outfit, but the baleful light that shone in his blue eyes, that seemed like they were staring at Kitty specifically. 

How did he hijack the television signal? 

“I am Magneto. For too long, mutants have been oppressed and persecuted, maimed and murdered while the governments of the world did nothing. Tonight, tonight that ends. Tonight the great cities of America go dark. We will no longer be oppressed. We will no longer passively tolerate your abuse. We no longer recognize the sovereignty of human governments.

24 hours from now, I expect the governments of the world to cede mutants a homeland of their own. I will be in communication with world leaders in the hours to follow.

Mutants of the world, remember that this is your day. Your day to rise up, to strike back. Your day to demand what is yours. Stand with me and soon, we will have a homeland.”

“That is the most absolutely insane bullshit I have ever heard.” Kitty whispered, but she felt a horrid chill settle in her spine as Magneto’s image faded from the screens, replaced by stunned and panicked newscasters. Immediately afterwards, everything went pitch black and Kitty couldn’t help but shriek in surprise. Thankfully, they almost immediately went back on, the backup generators starting up. Just like he said, the power’s out. And if everything’s down, then Magneto’s got a free hand to act. Everyone will be too busy panicking in the dark to do anything about him. 

“... how much could he knock out?” Bobby asked, desperately trying to minimize the damage in his head. “Like, maybe it’s just New York and the area around it. That’s pretty bad, but I mean, they can fix that pretty quickly. And we’ll be okay here, the backup power’s made to be pretty much immune to electromagnetic stuff.” He grasped Kitty’s hand tightly. “But … I don’t know it doesn’t seem like that should be it. Why just knock the power out?” 

“Spread panic. Spread fear.” Kitty tried to think about it herself. “Distraction.” 

“Distraction.” Rogue agreed as she walked into the room. “I don’t know a lot about his specific plans, but he’s gonna go for something big. And it’s good timing too.” She sat down on the couch, near the fringe of it. Kitty disentangled herself a little from Bobby, at least somewhat aware of the general need to avoid too much PDA and especially so with someone whose mutant power meant they couldn’t touch people. Kitty had to admit that she didn’t one hundred percent trust the other girl yet, though she’d helped them in a big way. It’s not impossible to think that she’s some sort of deep plant. Maybe it was her mother’s plan all along. Or Lehnsherr’s. Get people to think she’s all selfless or whatever and there she is. Ready to strike. 

That train of thought, however, seemed silly, shallow and paranoid. Kitty didn’t really get the impression that Rogue would be terribly adept at any such game of intrigue- she seemed like a pretty honest and straightforward girl. She was also scandalously pretty, in a way that was weirdly augmented by her typically rather modest dress. Kitty knew that Bobby dug the white stripe in her hair. Kitty herself, though, was more inclined to envy the powers she’d got from Warbird- superstrength, flight and virtual invulnerability?

Kitty wanted powers like that so badly. 

It helped, though, to try and focus on specifics. The big picture was impossibly overwhelming, but if it was broken down into its constituent parts, it looked almost manageable. “Right. Everyone’s going to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And- I guess he wants to be called Magneto now, he’s got pretty much free reign to strike wherever he wants. The Avengers and Fantastic Four are gone.” Kitty took a moment, trying to think like an egomaniac terrorist. Dr. Lehnsherr had never been one for patience and it seemed to her that he’d probably be looking for the quickest way to get endgame that he could. He said 24 hours. He’s going to have to do something remarkable to be able to compel world governments to do anything in 24 hours. Legislatures might not even happen to be meeting at the moment. 

It was Bobby who first looked like he had an idea and from the pallor on his face, Kitty imagined that it wasn’t a good one. “Hey. Um. Are there any nukes anywhere around here?” 

Kitty thought about that for a moment- she had the sinking feeling that Bobby was onto something with the idea of nuclear weapons. More than anything else she could think of, except possibly the main Sentinel factories, they were capable of being game-changers. If Magneto obtained nuclear weapons, especially a large number of them, he might very well have the means to compel obedience from governments. Or to get us all obliterated in a nuclear exchange. 

Cape Citadel. There’s nukes at Cape Citadel. Cape Citadel wasn’t that far away either- so if Magneto were in the area, he’d be able to strike it in pretty short order. Kitty was pretty certain that the base would be heavily guarded, but she was equally certain that they wouldn’t be capable of meaningfully resisting an attack by Magneto. He was insanely powerful, maybe the most powerful mutant in the entire world- he could give the Avengers a powerful run for their money. And they were gone, as were the Fantastic Four and even most of the older students and guests of the Institute. 

It was madness for Kitty to contemplate doing anything about the situation especially when she didn’t exactly have hard proof of anything that was going to happen, just an educated guess. At the same time, however, if Magneto is allowed to get away with what he’s planning, it’s game over. For any hope of the Professor’s dream at the very least and possibly for our entire species, mutant or not. Kitty got up off the couch and walked over to the now-dead television to turn it off, turning towards Bobby and Rogue. 

“We’ve got to try and stop him.” Kitty was expecting to see blank, incomprehending or possibly skeptical faces, but instead she found herself faced with expressions from both of them that she would describe as grim determination. 

“If he’s allowed to do this, it’s game over. For everyone.” Rogue got up herself. “We gotta know for sure if he’s planning to get there, though. It sounds like a pretty likely target, but if we go chargin’ in on some suicide mission, we’d better at least know that he’s there.” She looked over at Kitty. “Dunno how the rest of you are gonna get there, though. Looks like the grownups took the one good plane.” 

“Of course, to even entertain such a notion is by no standard rational.” Hank walked into the room, reaching up to adjust the small glasses precariously perched on his face. Kitty still remembered, with embarrassment, how frightened she had been of him but she’d long since realized that Hank was as kind a person as they came, sweet and gentle. Kitty also appreciated having a fellow nerd around- though Dr. Hank McCoy was much more than a simple nerd like her. He was a genius, at least as intelligent as the Professor himself. Hank took a small breath. “However, Jean and I will take the proposed suggestion of Cape Citadel as a likely location for Dr. Lehnsherr’s next move very seriously indeed.” 

“... wait, you mean, we’re going to be going after him?” Kitty could scarcely believe what she was hearing, though she didn’t know if the idea made her more excited or frightened. Her limited experience in fighting so far hadn’t exactly been pleasant and she’d only shaken off the shock of her experience very recently. If simply touching the helmet that Juggernaut had worn could cause so much pain and disorientation, Kitty pretty much knew for certain that she could count on having to deal with it again. He knows us. Our strengths. Our weaknesses. 

“You’re not in any position to make that decision, I’m afraid. You’re not even close to being able to legally consent to what could be reasonably described as a suicide mission.” Hank turned his attention over to Bobby and to Rogue. “And that applies to both of you as well.” Rogue glared at him, just about as hard as Kitty was sure she was glaring herself. Bobby looked like he was wavering for a moment, in front of someone whom she knew he respected a great deal. 

“Hank. This is the end of the world. If Magneto gets nuclear weapons we’re done. The Professor’s dream is dead and who knows how many people go with it.” Bobby continued for a moment. “If we’re all dead, then it doesn’t really matter, does it? Kitty’s dad won’t sue the Institute because he’ll be dead. And if you’re hinting at you and Jean going, well, no offense, but you’ll need every bit of help you can get. We can’t sit back and do nothing, Hank. We just can’t.” 

“First, we’re going to figure out if there’s something to what you’re supposing, that the missile base at Cape Citadel is the actual target.” Hank took a breath. “And then Jean and I are going to take a very long, hard look at the relative advantages and disadvantages of endangering minors. As much as I would love to simply reject your kind offer entirely, in the face of nuclear armageddon, I may not have that luxury. I imagine, if we survive all of this, Charles is going to have me turned into a throw rug for even contemplating the notion.” 

“Well, if you’re going to do that, no time like the present. I’m sure Magneto isn’t exactly waiting for us.” Rogue’s fists bunched up. “Whatever happens, this is promising to be all kinds of ugly.” 

Kitty really couldn’t disagree.


	37. Piotr VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-Men are headed towards Latveria!
> 
> Did you really expect it to go well? Really, honestly?

“Approaching Latverian airspace. Estimated ETA fifteen minutes.” Scott stated simply as they continued roaring towards Doctor Doom’s domain at a cruise speed of three times the speed of sound.  _ It will not be long at all now until we’ve reached Latveria. And then what? We find our friends, hopefully, and leave as quickly as possible. I doubt, however, that Doctor Doom will make it so easy for us.  _ It seemed that no matter what Piotr did with his life, he was always in some sort of danger.  _ At least now I am working for and with good people and not monsters.  _

 

Piotr knew that this was when things got particularly tense- their stealth technology and speed were more than adequate to prevent detection by just about any nation’s military, particularly as they were simply flying over. But Piotr didn’t know if that would hold once they reached Latveria. The country was tiny, occupying only a relatively small part of the Banat, where Romania, Hungary and Serbia met. He’d done a little reading about Latveria in the time they’d been flying- in many ways, it seemed like a throwback to an earlier era in European history, back when Central and Eastern Europe were far more mixed than today.

 

Piotr glanced over for a moment at Elisabeth, who was staring out of the window, turned away about as far away from him as their positions sitting together would allow.  _ I should not have said that.  _ He knew that she had struggled much of her life with people not taking her seriously, regarding her as nothing more than another party girl. It was a role that she played well, enthusiastically even, but there was far more to her than a good time and he earnestly regretted contributing, even a little to the impression that there wasn’t. 

 

“Stay focused on what we’ve got to actually  _ do,  _ Piotr, and stop fretting about what you said, for fuck’s sake. That’s only a very small part of my annoyance right now.” She turned over to him, an eyebrow pointedly raised. Piotr had the distinct feeling that it rankled with her worse than she was letting on, but he tried his best not to think of it too much. She did have a good point in that they needed to focus. They were about to land in an extremely dangerous situation. 

 

“Nonetheless, I am sorry.” Piotr reached over towards her hand. It remained stiff in his, but she didn’t pull it away, though she stared at him for a few seconds and then at their hands. It was an amazing thing. In many ways, she was so tough and capable and yet, Piotr couldn’t help but marvel at how tiny and delicate her hand felt in his.  _ I suppose that would be true of most women, and if my taste ran that way, of many men as well.  _ People were routinely amazed that Piotr was an artist. Even for his height, he had rather large hands, a trait that had run in the family. 

 

_ You know what they say about men with large hands …  _

 

_ It is difficult to find gloves for them.  _ Piotr rolled his eyes, though part of him was grateful that Betsy was making even that old, tired joke.  _ I am sorry, truly.  _ He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. When they landed, they would have to be completely focused, but Piotr found himself wanting to clear the air between them. They might not have another chance to do so for a very long time. It was easier to do so via thought, and more considerate for the other occupants of the plane. Piotr doubted that Ororo, Logan, Scott or Longshot particularly wanted to hear any of the details of their relationship. 

 

_ You’re really determined to go through this, aren’t you? Sure that’s a great idea? We could be blown out of the sky by a missile any moment and have to bail.  _ There was, however, a faint flash of amusement in Elisabeth’s purple eyes.  _ You know, I really get annoyed when most people call me Elisabeth.  _ Piotr had always had the impression, however, that she did not particularly mind that he called her that. He thought it was a lovely name, for a beautiful woman. 

 

_ I am nothing if not persistent.  _ Piotr smiled faintly over at her and he was relieved when she smiled back and gave his hand a little squeeze. The very fact that they were headed into what was very likely some sort of extremely serious danger made it seem more important to Piotr that they were on good terms, as much as possible, before that happened. Hopefully, they would have more time together once this was over. 

 

“... bad news from home, people. Lehnsherr’s attacked the Northeastern United States’ power grid. There’s over 100 million people without power.” Scott spoke grimly and took a breath. “Which means that whatever he’s planning, I’m willing to bet it’s happening soon.” 

 

_ It seems we’ll have to wait to have our relationship talk. Though if we actually survive all this, I might want some other things first.  _ The tiny smile she’d given him earlier became something of a lewd grin. Piotr was quite certain that he was blushing positively scarlet and equally certain that he needed not to think, at all, of what exactly she meant by that. The prospect did, however, admittedly shore up his resolve to make it through whatever Doom planned. 

 

“We gonna turn this thing around?” Logan asked Scott.

 

“Absolutely not.” Scott replied. “We’re not leaving our friends behind. No way. Who knows what Doom intends to do with Wanda and Kurt.” 

 

Logan leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Someone might argue yer not bein’ super objective there, Summers. Lehnsherr’s a big threat and he’s way closer to our doorstep than Doom. The Avengers and Fantastic Four are out of the picture for the moment.” 

 

Piotr didn’t doubt that Logan made a certain amount of sense, but at the same time, he knew that Scott wasn’t going to back down on it.  _ And truly, if we do not and cannot protect the people who are dear to us, how will we do so with strangers?  _ He supposed that a true military organization might make a different judgement of the situation. At the same time, however, turning around would mean losing a great deal of valuable time without anything to show for it. He, personally, was in favor of pressing on. 

 

“We’re not turning around.” Scott repeated himself. “You’re right, I’m not objective. Kurt is a friend of mine and Wanda’s like a sister to me. Someone in my family is in danger and I am going to do whatever I can to help them. So, thank you for the alternate perspective, but the mission is rescuing Kurt and Wanda. I want you to focus on what you’re going to do to make that happen. We’ll worry about Magneto later when we have our people.” If he was doubtful about what he needed to do, it didn’t particularly show in his voice or his demeanour. 

 

Scott turned towards Ororo. “We’re getting close to Latveria. Can you set some cover up for us? I want the worst landing weather possible. Thick dark clouds. We might not fool his advanced technology, but I’m willing to guess there’s some fallible human beings operating it. Betsy, slip on the miniaturized Cerebro unit. It’ll walk you through operating it. Hopefully at closer range, we’ll be able to get some sign of where Kurt and Wanda are. And everyone, buckle up, because we might be doing some pretty wild maneuvers.” 

 

Ororo nodded quietly and closed her eyes for a moment. When they re-opened, they were milky white. “Latveria is about to have a rather severe storm.” She took a breath. “I hope we do not spend any longer than necessary in the air. It is … unpleasant in here.” Piotr knew that she was somewhat claustrophobic and imagined that being stuck in the interior of the Blackbird was something akin to a personal hell for her. He found it confining enough, but that wasn’t because of claustrophobia, it was simply because he was big. 

 

Elisabeth pulled down the helmet of the miniaturized Cerebro unit, concentrating intently, raising her hands onto the portion of the helmet just over her temples.  _ For the rest of us, I suppose, there is nothing to do but to hurry up and wait.  _ Piotr glanced towards Longshot, who seemed to be completely unaffected by the tense atmosphere and to Logan, who looked like he was spoiling for a fight. He didn’t doubt that Logan was more than ready for any battle that would come their way. 

 

Piotr had never in his life particularly wanted a fight. Unfortunately, fights had a way of finding him.  _ I suppose I should count my blessings. _

 

“I think I’ve found something.” Elisabeth cut the silence as she furrowed her brow in concentration. “This infernal device is not as easy to use as you might think it is, but I’m catching several mutant signatures … about fifteen miles to the southwest. I’ll give you precise coordinates telepathically.” She paused for a moment, presumably sending them to Scott. “They’re mostly weak signatures. Four notable ones. One of them is a potential Omega-class mutant.” 

 

“That’s Wanda.” Scott replied. “Fifteen miles to the southwest is … Castle Doom. I was hoping they’d be held somewhere else, but it looks like we’re giving the good Doctor a housecall. Ororo, I want that weather as bad as you can possibly make it. We need all the distraction we can get. Throw everything you have. With some luck, we might disrupt his power. I’m sure he has backups, but any tiny advantage we have is something, at least. Betsy, try and get as precise as you can with placement.”

 

“That’s what bloody well concerns me. I’m not having any trouble doing that. If Magneto can block telepathy as easily as most of us take tea, surely Doom can do so just as easily.” Elisabeth took a breath. “He’s got to be leading us into a trap. There’s no other way that I shouldn’t be struggling to even get a sniff of them.” Piotr didn’t doubt that she was right, though he did wonder if Magneto had an advantage over Doom over telepathy specifically due to his greater exposure to it.  _ I’m not sure if that’s the case, though, from what I’ve heard, Doctor Doom is one of the greatest scientific minds of all time.  _

 

“We got company.” Scott lowered the ruby quartz screen over the front window of the Blackbird. “Six bogies coming in hot. Betsy, scan them really quickly. If they have human pilots, try and get them to stand down. Ororo, drop something nasty around us. Tornadoes, a hurricane, blizzard, anything. Everyone else, hold on. Blackbird, I’m engaging manual controls.” With a faint mechanical whir, a small wheel appeared. Scott’s hands grasped it eagerly and before they knew it, they were banking hard. 

 

As tough as it was for Piotr, it was far worse for Ororo and Betsy, who had to try and focus on accomplishing actual tasks while this was happening. Ororo reached out her hands wide and soon enough, Piotr could see spiralling funnel clouds drop down out of the sky near their position, heading towards the fighters. Betsy’s eyes were closed and she looked as if she was struggling, most likely to try and lock down on the minds of the pilots while the airplane was maneuvering as it was. Piotr instinctively reached out a hand to hold hers. 

 

“... there’s no one on the planes. Drones.” Betsy finally gasped out. “And something or someone’s trying to get into my head. I’m not sure exactly what, though …” At first, it seemed like the moment had passed and she took a deep breath. Almost immediately after that, though, her eyes violently rolled back into her head and she started twitching inside her seat. 

 

Piotr instinctively reached out to grasp her. “Scott! Turn off the Cerebro unit!” 

 

“I’m afraid that will do no good.” Betsy spoke with a deep, resonant voice that reminded Piotr of German and Hungarian, but spoken with a cold, metallic cast that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do not worry. I have only seized control of Elisabeth temporarily. It would be most unpleasant of me to destroy such a beautiful woman without necessary cause.” Elisabeth’s pupils were grossly dilated, almost completely obscuring the violet irises. 

 

“Let her go.” Piotr heard himself growling, in a tone of voice he had only used a few times before in his life, a dark and angry sound that he did not like.  _ Were I able, I would do more than speak with him.  _ Piotr found himself wondering if he were capable of cracking that metallic shell. Elisabeth’s head turned towards him and her lips curved into an arrogant smile before unnaturally deep laughter issued from her throat. 

 

“I will when it suits my purpose. Let us discuss the terms of your surrender. Mr. Summers, I believe you are the leader of this group. Tell Ororo to cease her manipulations of the weather immediately. It is most inconvenient to my subjects. Then I want you to set the plane down gently on top of Castle Doom. I have already seen the schematics of your aircraft. Impressive enough. Surprisingly so considering how woefully inexperienced you all are.” 

 

“Why should I believe a word you are saying?” Scott replied coolly. Whatever he was feeling on the inside, he was doing a truly remarkable job of maintaining calm. “I’ve got visual on Castle Doom.” He took a breath. “... Logan. You know how to treat shock fairly well, yes? From your time in the military?” 

 

“Yeah, I know.” Logan replied, raising his eyebrow. 

 

“If I kill Cerebro quickly enough, Betsy’s going to go unconscious. She’ll pull through it, but she won’t be in good shape for awhile afterwards. But it might shock Doom out of her head.” Scott looked at Piotr as he pressed the kill-switch and, just as he said, Betsy immediately slumped in her seat, and slowly, groggily opened her eyes afterwards, pallid. Her hands were suddenly, shockingly cold and clammy in Piotr’s own. Logan unbuckled his straps, moving quickly to place Elisabeth in a more comfortable position.

 

“... that wasn’t fun ... uhnnn …” Elisabeth groaned, her eyes glazed-over and unfocused. “Bastard must’ve …” Her eyes closed for a moment, before opening again. “It wasn’t like telepathy.” She took a ragged breath. “Some kind of machine, I think. But it also felt like he was getting into my  _ soul,  _ not just my mind.” Her grip on Piotr’s hand loosened somewhat. 

 

“Ororo … those fighters, are they still on our tails?” Scott turned back towards Ororo, but the sound of their conversation seemed to become more and more distant, as if they were moving further away.  _ What?  _ It felt a little like he had been dosed with an anaesthetic of some sort. 

 

_ Mr. Summers harmed your dear Elisabeth far worse than I intended to. The fact is, I have no particular ill-will towards you. That being said, Ms. Munroe is gravely inconveniencing a great many of my subjects. That cannot be tolerated.  _

 

Piotr felt his body being moved like a puppet, getting up out of his seat as he armoured himself up against his will and passingly struck Ororo, knocking her completely unconscious. Logan immediately moved, but Piotr simply grabbed his wrists.  _ No. I must fight this.  _ Logan’s bones were adamantium, even stronger than the metal that Piotr himself was made out of, but his muscles were far weaker and even more importantly, the ligaments which bound the bones together were still made of sinew. Piotr distantly heard a sickening crunch as he bent Logan’s elbows completely in the wrong direction and a distinct popping sound as he dislocated his arms, sending Logan flying across the cabin. 

 

“Now, Mr. Summers, if you would recognize when you are defeated and land the aircraft, we could have a civilized discussion. It is not my desire to harm you or yours, but I will do so unhesitatingly if you continue to oppose me and threaten my subjects.” A giant fist reached out and hit Longshot, sending him slumping against the cabin, unconscious. “You know as well as I do that you can’t even use those optic blasts of yours and even if you could, you’d surely kill your friends.” 

 

_ No, I must fight this. I can’t let this happen.  _

 

_ Do not feel guilt. You could not have stopped me.  _

 

“Wanda and Kurt are unharmed. Land this aircraft and you have my word that your captivity shall not be unduly unpleasant, perhaps even temporary. You’re a reasonably intelligent young man. You  _ know  _ you’re beaten. As a leader, it is your duty to see that your charges are not harmed unnecessarily.” 

 

Scott’s face was tight, the fists at his sides even more so. “Blackbird … start landing procedure.” He glared hard in Piotr’s direction, though Piotr knew it wasn’t directed at him, but rather at Doom. 

 

“Let him go.” Scott told Doom. “Let Piotr go. You’ve proven your point.” 

 

Piotr’s eyes closed for a moment and when they opened again, he was in control of himself. He looked around, at the unconscious forms of Longshot, of Ororo and Elisabeth, at Logan whose arms were slowly knitting themselves back together, torn ligaments reforming. 

 

“Well … that went real well there, Summers. Any big plans?” Logan shook his head. “Mind comin’ over here big guy and putting my shoulders back in?” 

 

“... remind me not to get into a fight with you …” Longshot murmured groggily as his eyes opened slowly. 

 

Scott didn’t respond to Logan immediately, but turned his attention back towards . “You … you have superhuman luck, Longshot?” 

 

“Uh, yeah, I mean, if my intentions are good.” Longshot replied. 

 

“Hopefully rescuing all of us will qualify. Grab a parachute, we’re dropping you on our way in to surrender.” Scott took a breath. “Because we’re going to need a goddamn miracle if we’re going to get out of here.” 

  
  
  
  



	38. Tessa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa and Sebastian discuss the situation and come to some surprising conclusions. 
> 
> Also, they're kind of cute together?

“What the devil does that fool think he’s doing?” Sebastian glared at the monitor, fed directly from Hellfire Club headquarters, one of the few sources of accurate information available, as much of the United States had been brought to a virtual standstill by Magneto’s electromagnetic pulse. Tessa watched Sebastian carefully, knowing that his temper was roused. “How the devil am I supposed to advance any plans with complete chaos like this? Or, work with an ally who refuses to tell me about any of his moves.” 

His gaze settled on her. “You should have known he was going to do this. You’re supposed to be able to predict everything. Even more so because you know the man. You slept with him.” Tessa knew that he was trying to rile her up as well, that her current state of calm, normally reassuringly professional for him, was annoying him. And yet, he’s restraining himself ever so slightly. He’s angry and frustrated, but not unhinged. I’m not in any real danger right now. 

“If you wish me to admit that I made a mistake, Sebastian, yes, I did. I fully expected him to make some sort of grand strike, but I did not think it would be quite so swift.” Tessa got up off the couch she was sitting on and went over to the bar. The hotel they were staying in was just as devoid of power as all the others, but she had been able to acquire some lamps. She opened a bottle of Sebastian’s favorite whiskey and poured two glasses, one finger for herself and three for him. Tessa passed him the drink quietly. 

“It seems we both fucked up.” Tessa was certain the admission was bitter on Sebastian’s tongue and yet, she couldn’t help but feel privileged that he would share it with her. “What Selene showed me … it is not easy for me to deny myself access to such power, even for awhile.” He took the glass. “But if your clairvoyant friend saw truly, then delay I shall. I should break the witch’s neck, but she has powerful friends inside the Club. It may be just as well that I’m close to her. Keep your enemies closer.” 

It pleased Tessa that Sebastian actually trusted her- she had rarely, if ever, relied on that, but in the aftermath of what Irene had shown her and what she’d analyzed from those visions, it was imperative that the Hellfire Club’s resources be steered away from causing the apocalypse and towards preventing it. Tessa knew that Sebastian would not see it that way, precisely, but it was easy enough to couch it in terms of resisting the temptation placed before him by an unfaithful ally. 

“In the immediate future, it is probably prudent to keep Selene close. She operates on fields that I am less than ideally familiar with and I would like an opportunity to study her more closely.” Tessa regarded Selene as a dangerous enemy but she had to admit that she found what she heard of the woman to be intensely fascinating. Naturally a rational woman who regarded any tales of the supernatural with an intense skepticism, Tessa was beginning to realize that there really was more to the universe than could be easily summed up in her philosophy. Between the effortless magical power that the new Black Queen could summon and the vast amount of lore regarding the future that Irene had found, the more that Tessa learned, the more she realized she did not know. 

“Lehnsherr. Magneto, as the man wants to be known.” Sebastian gulped down nearly half of the whiskey she had poured. “He’s gone outside the bounds of our agreement. He’s creating complete chaos out there. Long before we were prepared to take advantage of it.” He finished the rest of it and set it down, clearly expecting Tessa to pour another round. Sebastian could hold his liquor well and she knew that he wanted to get drunk. Not yet. I need you sober for a little longer. We can feel sorry for ourselves and our mistakes later. 

“As you said, Sebastian-” Tessa paused for a moment, deciding to refill his glass but only modestly. “We both fucked up. When you make mistakes, you don’t dwell on them, you reconsider your position. Erik Lehnsherr appears to have been a poor wager. His arrogance and ambition has overwhelmed his good sense.” Tessa diplomatically omitted that Sebastian had done the same with Selene. Their situation had dramatically declined since the same time a week ago, where they had formed an alliance that seemed to present impressive benefits to both parties. “We need allies. People who we can work with, whom we can actually count on. Useful allies, but, perhaps, ones who need us at least as much as we need them.” 

“You’re stating the obvious, Tessa.” Sebastian replied dryly. “Now if you have some actual specific suggestions as to where to find these supposed allies … that would actually be useful.” He looked at the glass before picking it up. “They’ll need to be people we can find quickly as well, because I do not believe for a second that Magneto’s finished. The whole thing stinks of a distraction. He’s after something that will finish the whole thing in one go. Something that he thinks will make it irrelevant that he’s effectively crossed the Hellfire Club.” Sebastian bolted down the drink and slammed the glass on the table, hard enough that it broke, sending glittering bits of glass all over its surface. “He cannot be allowed to get away with that.” 

“The Fantastic Four and the Avengers are both currently indisposed.” Tessa replied. “I believe this was a major consideration for him. However, they do not constitute the only body of significantly powerful superhumans.” She looked significantly at him. “I’m certain that Mr. Rasputin and Ms. Braddock haven’t exactly painted a flattering picture of us, but the fact is that Charles Xavier is running an operation he can’t afford in the long run.” She sipped her own drink delicately, feeling the whiskey burn deliciously down her throat. “Besides, they are as motivated as anyone in making sure that Magneto doesn’t succeed in his plans.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Sebastian pulled a face, as if he was a child who was just informed that he would be obliged to eat nothing but brussel sprouts for the next few weeks. “Xavier. Their precious Institute was just attacked. He’s missing right now. Magneto seems to have neutralized them pretty efficiently. Charles Xavier is an idealistic fool. A man who will never work with us, for fear that he might get his hands dirty.” 

“His hands aren’t as clean as you think.” Tessa replied pointedly. “They’re desperate. Any assistance we can render to them at this moment of need will be remembered. It will go a long way towards restoring our reputation with them. The Hellfire Club seeks to see mutants in control, but we’ve never been particularly fussy about how it occurred, or under which circumstances. Perhaps there’s something to be said for a more subtle approach. Besides-” Tessa smiled faintly. “Xavier has a huge amount of incredibly valuable proprietary technology. If we could get our hands on any of it. Imagine how profitable a device that could detect mutants all over the world could be for our cause.” 

“Why the sudden turn? Does this have to do with the clairvoyant?” Sebastian moved closer. “You should have brought her with you. Considering what you got out of her in less than a week, imagine what we could gain from her over years. And if she was indeed the lover of Erik’s woman, she may be a valuable hostage as well.” Tessa was unsurprised by that particular turn of Sebastian’s mind, but the truth was that she desired to honour Irene’s request to simply be left alone. 

“If we truly need to find her, I know how to do so. It may seem a silly thing, but I would prefer to leave her out of our games for now. She told me enough, as it is.” Tessa moved closer to Sebastian, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re right about Magneto’s next move. He feels good about the hand he holds, everyone else seems to be holding a weaker one- he’s gone all-in. He’s looking for something that is a game-ender. The Sentinels may constitute one, but he doesn’t have the resources to easily control them, and destroying them doesn’t get him what he wants quickly enough. What else are people so frightened of that they may consider something as patently absurd as giving a megalomaniac like him a country?” 

“Nuclear weapons.” Sebastian replied. “Now you, my dear, are a little too young to remember those days …” His arms snaked around her, bringing her flush against him. “But I remember them well enough. We were all taught to be afraid of them. That fear is mostly dormant now, people have found new bugbears. But if he could get nuclear weapons and use them, he might have a chance of frightening world leaders into giving him what he wants.” 

“Cape Citadel.” Tessa finished the train of thought neatly. “He’s going to attack the missile base at Cape Citadel. I would not be surprised if whomever is at the Institute makes the same judgement. Furthermore, I would not be surprised if they act to stop him, regardless of the risk. I think we should render whatever modest assistance we can. Transportation, perhaps. There is your personal jet. The Hellfire Club one, of course.” 

“So we’ve provided a way for a band of children to die in a more efficient fashion.” Sebastian walked over to the cabinet to find himself another glass. “That is, unless you think they actually have a chance to defeat him.” It was fairly obvious to Tessa that Sebastian didn’t think they had much of a chance. All things told, it was a reasonable assumption. 

“As good a chance as anyone. Anyone, even the most powerful can easily become arrogant and makes mistakes, and if they have someone with them who is capable of interfacing with electronic systems, well, they would be rather well positioned to take advantage of those foolish mistakes.” Tessa finished her drink and reached over unhesitatingly to pour herself another one. Considering what she was proposing, another drink seemed very welcome. But no more than that, I can’t very well be drunk while doing any of this. She decided that Sebastian, too, needed more to drink. Tessa didn’t doubt that he knew exactly what she was proposing. 

“No. That’s insane. You’re much too valuable.” Sebastian’s hand went to her wrist, but, considering the man’s remarkable ability to completely destroy human flesh with his bare hands- a bloody gift that she had witnessed on more than one occasion, his touch was shockingly gentle. She wondered if the tumultuous events of the last while had somehow convinced him of the importance of someone he could truly trust. “Besides, you’re not a fighter.” 

“I am whatever I am required to be under the circumstances. You and the President prefer me as an advisor, but I’m quite capable of being a spy, an assassin, and yes, a fighter too. I learned how to fight from one of the best teachers in the world.” Tessa actually smiled. “Taskmaster isn’t a Zumba instructor. It’s charming, flattering, that even with all your ruthlessness, that you’re so eager to protect me- but you know I’m not just a PDA with a great ass. You also know that whoever is there at the school is in desperate need of someone, anyone with some basic competency in operations. You can provide me the technology I need to interface with the systems. Put me in the control room and I can disable the nuclear devices, at the very least.” 

“Say you’re successful.” Sebastian’s eyes gazed intently into hers. “Magneto is dead or imprisoned-” 

“As much as I know you’d like to see him dead, I believe trial and imprisonment to be the better option. If he dies, he will be seen as a martyr. Alive, people will be able to see his obvious megalomania.” Tessa replied. “If we are fortunate enough to all survive the next 24 hours or so?” Her neutral expression curved upwards into a small grin. “We’re the Hellfire Club. We infiltrate, subvert and corrupt. Whatever you think of him, Charles Xavier has managed to gather some of the most powerful people on the planet to his side. I’m willing to bet that, managed properly, we can turn some or perhaps even most of them into the next generation of Hellfire Club leadership.

We earn their trust. And then we exploit it towards our own ends.” And turn your attention and energy away from Selene’s plans, as well as gain powerful allies that may be able to tip the scales against her, once and for all. Tessa knew that the Black Queen was a dire threat, not only to Sebastian’s position in the Hellfire Club, but to the world generally. There’s no value in being the king or the queen of ashes. 

Tessa suspected that Irene would be less than pleased about this particular development, though she wondered if she would be surprised- indeed, she may even have foreseen it. The Hellfire Club still represents my best opportunity to direct the course of events. I can far more efficiently stave off the various apocalypses that threaten our world from the inside than I could on my own. That Tessa had enormous influence with Sebastian, and with the Club by extension, had just been demonstrated. He’d believed what she’d told him immediately and actually swallowed his pride regarding Selene. 

It would have been an easy thing for Tessa to say it was all that simple, that she had remained loyal to the Club for strictly utilitarian concerns. But the fact was that there was much more to it than that. She enjoyed the power and influence she wielded, and really, why should she be ashamed of that? Tessa also enjoyed the creature comforts. Anything that she could imagine wanting, she could have. She had become independently wealthy from shrewd investments of her official salary, but the truth was that she had barely touched it. 

Tessa suspected that Irene would have preferred she give all that away, for what? For the dubious pleasure of moral rectitude? It isn’t my style. I’m not a good person, I never was and never shall be. I enjoy wealth and power. I enjoy having the ear of powerful men. Sebastian, perhaps, most of all, but he was far from the only one. When she was younger, she had honestly enjoyed her tryst with Dr. Lehnsherr- she hadn’t realized his megalomania at the time, but perhaps it would not have phased her. As if, really, Sebastian isn’t. He’s simply more patient and controlled because I’m there with him. 

“Very well.” Sebastian finally assented. “Take what you need. Go to the Institute and see if they’ll actually accept your help.” He was less than convinced, evidently, that they would. His eyes met hers. “But understand this. You’re too valuable for me to lose. You’re the one person I can actually trust in the world. Really trust. If anything happens to you, I swear to God, I will crush every last one of them under my boots. Lehnsherr. Xavier. The students.” 

“I’m a survivor, Sebastian. I’ll survive this too.” Tessa gazed up at him earnestly, suddenly feeling a little less than objective. “I promise.” Tessa never promised anything sincerely. It was always her habit to hedge her bets, to establish parameters around her predictions and analyses. And here she was, promising Sebastian that she would return when she knew that the chances she wouldn’t were quite high indeed. 

Then again, it was equally out of character for Sebastian to so openly show sincere regard for another human being. Tessa was quite certain that he didn’t just mean that he valued her skills, or that he thought she was a good lay. The moment was altogether more emotional than she was entirely comfortable with, but she couldn’t find the proper disdain for it. 

“You damn well better.” From a man like him, that statement, sincerely delivered, meant a million times more than ‘I love you’. There was really nothing to do after that statement but to kiss him.


	39. Pietro VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brotherhood of Mutants are on the rampage in New York!
> 
> A wild Spider-Man appears!
> 
> It's super effective.

It was all going so well. 

 

Raven had identified three churches that were centres of Purity Movement sympathy, intending to hit them at the most convenient juncture. The intention had always been to take on one of them at a time, but now, with the authorities stretched thin dealing with half a dozen riots and hundreds of looters roaming over the city? Tonight they were going to get lucky and knock them all down. They’d already sent one of them deep into the ground and the second one was just about ready to go. 

 

Pietro’s job was to race in and make sure that nobody was actually in the churches- at least, nobody who could reasonably be considered a civilian. None of them had any particular qualms about killing active Purifiers, but they’d all agreed there was no particular benefit in killing some poor dumb bastard or bitch who happened to go to the wrong church. He’d opened up the door and gone running in and just like the first one, this one was empty, without even a night custodian present. 

 

Pietro dashed back up to the surface outside where Raven and the others were waiting. “Nobody’s home, church is just as empty as the last one was.” Something in Pietro’s head wondered at how easy this all was- and wondered how precisely it was going wrong. None of the big superhero teams were around, though, and the few vigilantes that might be operating probably had bigger fish to fry. Not that Pietro was particularly intimidated by the notion of some guy in a red suit with a billy club, or by some teenage boy in a stupid blue and red outfit with “web” lines on it. 

 

“Awesome.” Raven grinned. “Avalanche, Pyro … boys, let’s send this place off to hell where it belongs?” Immediately after she finished speaking, Dom held his arms out and Pietro felt the shaking of the earth underneath him as a seismic line ripped through the pavement, heading towards the church, spreading across its foundation and sending it collapsing to the ground. A minute later, John had brought a firestorm into being that sent the wreckage ablaze. 

 

“Two down, one to go.” Dom turned his head towards the burning wreckage for a moment. “Off to the next one? We’ll have to start thinking about what we’re gonna do after all these Purity churches are destroyed. Sun’s not gonna come up for another three, four hours. We got any secondary targets or do we just generally raise hell, Mystique?” Pietro could tell that he was having to remind himself to use the new ‘mutant names’. 

 

“I’m going to go solo and handle a few targets myself.” Raven replied, turning her attention back towards Dom and smirking faintly. “I think you all can find plenty to keep yourselves occupied. Surprise me.” She glanced over at all of them. “We stay out here until we start to see the rays of the dawn poking up. When we do that, we get back to the House and hole up for the daylight hours. I got food, water, a backup generator and all kinds of other goodies to tide us over. The power situation should be back in about 24 hours or so, in which time, Magneto’s plan has either worked or failed.” 

 

“Gotcha.” Dom nodded. There wasn’t a lot more to say to that, so they started moving again. The third and last of the Purity-aligned churches was about five blocks northwest of their current location. Pietro’s job was to act as a scout, running forward and behind and to the side of the main formation, to spot any trouble before it happened. Just as he figured, the resources of law enforcement were concentrated in nicer neighbourhoods, where the people paid more taxes.  _ The Purity churches operate here because nobody watches them. A lot of people don’t actually attend the regular services. They just come for the hate-on against mutants.  _

 

There were a few looters out on the streets around them, but they scattered fast when they saw the group coming up. Fred was a huge, intimidating presence and in a rare fit of inspiration, Tabby had scrounged up some admittedly kinda cool semi-uniforms, with bits of body armour and long leather coats. All in all, they looked kinda cyberpunk, especially John with his flamethrowers. Pietro had also taken some sidearms from Raven’s vast armory, but the truth was that he didn’t know the first thing about handling guns in real life. 

 

The streets were eerily quiet and almost totally dark, with only a faint illumination from the moon and the stars. Pietro couldn’t help but look upwards, at the stars that were so much more prominent than they usually were- most nights, they were almost totally killed by the light pollution.  _ Shit, it’s actually kind of pretty up there.  _ He continued to run the circuit around the main group, which casually ambled up the streets. They actually looked pretty badass and it was sort of hard to believe that this was the same group of kids that had been so casually shut down by the mutants at Xavier’s. 

 

_ People that I thought were friends. People including my fucking sister.  _ Once again, Father had seen fit to intervene, to put Wanda out of reach of the others. Raven had done the same for Kurt. He didn’t know the details but he’d heard the name ‘Latveria’ mentioned somewhere and frankly, he didn’t like the notion of his sister being in Latveria.  _ Latveria means Doctor Doom and there’s a motherfucker that even Dad needs to be careful around.  _ Once or twice, the Fantastic Four and the Avengers had thwarted his schemes for world domination, but he’d never really been beaten, truly beaten on his home turf before. 

 

Pietro ran ahead to the last church and there, much to his delight, he saw about a dozen burly looking men, standing in front of the church, armed with a variety of weapons, some with baseball bats, though most of them carried some sort or another of guns. Pietro couldn’t help but smirk slightly as he banked away from them, too fast to perceive unless one knew specifically what they were looking for.  _ This might actually be interesting.  _ Realistically, though, Pietro knew that it would be over quickly for them. 

 

Pietro dashed back to where the others were. “Thirteen men, looks like they’re pretty much all armed, mostly with guns of some kind. Rifles, shotguns, handguns. They didn’t see me-” Because of  _ course  _ they didn’t see Pietro, what kind of amateur would have have to be for people to actually see him? “If you guys could actually move fast for once, we’d probably be able to take them totally by surprise.” Raven wasted no time at all, scrambling up onto a rooftop.  _ Because that’s just the extra advantage we didn’t need but will totally take. A sniper.  _

 

“Okay, here’s the deal. Quicksilver. Draw their fire. Blob, you’re on soak-up duty. These buildings all pretty much look the same. Toad, go with Pyro. Hit them from the  _ side.  _ Wall of fire. Toad, mop them up … Boom-Boom, you’re with me-” Dom glanced over at Tabby for a second. “Boom-Boom? Really? Couldn’t you be like, Timebomb or something? Boom-Boom sounds like something out of a porn parody.” 

 

“Whatever, it’s awesome.” Tabby rolled her eyes. 

 

“You’re with me. I’m gonna knock them flat on their asses and then you roll in bombs. Lots of them. If they’re smart, they’ll stay down, before Mystique ventilates their skulls.” Dom looked around at all of them. “Okay, guys, let’s kick some bigot ass.” Pietro was almost impressed at how quickly, relatively speaking, the others sprang into action. For his own part, he started roaring towards the Purifier group, running around them in circles. They were shooting and cursing, but none of them could possibly aim at him. 

 

It was sort of funny to watch a bullet go by- they should have been going blindingly fast, too fast to perceive, but he could see them clearly, the sprayed buckshot, the individual slugs from pistols and rifles. There was something weirdly beautiful about the progress of the bullet through the air. Practically speaking, it was incredibly easy to avoid them and almost impossible for anyone to actually hit him. The others were slowly, slowly coming onto the scene. There was a rumble of the ground below him, but now that he was moving fast, he could perceive the individual waves rippling through the ground. 

 

There were really no words to describe how hilarious it was to watch the panic on the faces of the Purifiers as they broke ranks and tried to scatter, several knocked down by seismic waves, blinded by the brilliant lights and deafening noise of Tabby’s bombs, fleeing John’s wave of fire. Pietro saw Morty sailing over the wall of fire and landing on one of the men with a slow, sickening crunch, his chest caved in by the impact. In slow motion, Morty’s disgusting, enormous tongue lanced out to take the gun from another one of the Purifiers, pulling it into his hands and pulling the trigger. 

 

If the wave of fire was weirdly entrancing, there was something much more disturbingly so about seeing Raven’s bullet find its mark in a man’s head. Pietro had never, up close, seen a man die. He wanted to turn away, but he found that he couldn’t. The entry was strangely clean, the bullet punching a neat hole through the forehead. It was the exit that was far more disgusting, a spreading bloom of gore from the thoroughly ruined back of the man’s head. Pietro knew that he’d be dead before he hit the ground. 

 

Seeing it in slow motion made it somehow unreal- if it weren’t for that, Pietro was sure that he’d feel nausea, revulsion, disgust. Looking around at the rest of the fight it was almost over now. Most of the Purifiers were down, either killed or severely injured. The last man standing leveled his gun at John and squeezed. Pietro’s eyes opened wide as he realized that bullet was going to hit John unless he did something about it. 

 

The bullet had enough of a head start that it was tough making up the distance, as Pietro went around John’s side and whipped him around, he could feel the faint distortion in the air from the bullet’s path. The moment of stopping to shoot had been a catastrophic one for the Purifier though, Raven had been able to gain a target and a second cranium bloomed open, the man dead before he even hit the ground. 

 

After the brief burst of action, the rest of it all seemed fairly anti-climactic. Dom would once again knock down the building and John would light it on fire. Raven joined them a moment later, her sniper rifle slung on her back and a handgun out.  _ Jesus fuck, she’s going to execute the survivors.  _ Pietro stopped for a moment, wanting to say something about it, but finding himself unable to speak. 

 

“That really necessary?” Dom looked over at Raven. “They’re down. Toad can knock `em out. We’re not getting any more fight out of these fuckers. The ones still alive anyway. Maybe it’s just as well that we leave `em. They can tell their fucker friends.” Pietro actually breathed out a sigh of relief as Raven put the gun away and Mortimer went about, exposing the Purifiers to his toxic goo. They were mostly hurt pretty badly and Pietro wouldn’t be surprised if one or two of them died before help was found for them, but the truth was, he didn’t care that much about them. They would’ve murdered him if they had a chance. 

 

Pietro just didn’t feel right killing people who were incapacitated. 

 

“All right.” Raven glanced away from the burning church towards the others. “I’m gonna go fuck off and fuck up some people. Avalanche, you’re in charge until I’m back. Keep going until you see daylight just starting to poke through and then fuck off, go eat, sleep, fuck, whatever you want to do. I’ll see you later.” She grinned and went off almost silently into a tangle of buildings.  _ Happy hunting, Raven. I’m sure we’ll have plenty to keep us busy too.  _

 

“Hey Boom-Boom.” Dom asked with a grin, almost immediately, as they started sauntering away from the burning wreckage of the church. “You still know how to hotwire cars?” 

 

“No, I forgot. Of course I remember how to hotwire a car, dumbass.” Tabby grinned back, carrying a shotgun she’d taken from one of the Purifiers. “Unlike all you squeaky-clean city boys, I was stealing shit and raising hell since I was twelve. Had my first arrest when I was nine. Tried to put me in juvie, but then I broke out.” When Pietro was nine, he was whining to his father about going to Disneyland.  _ I guess maybe my life wasn’t quite as shitty as I thought it was after all.  _

 

“You should get back on scout duty, there, Qui-” Dom didn’t get to finish what he was saying, because all of the sudden, there was a quiet  _ thwip  _ sound and Dom was dragged up to hang upside down from a lightpost. There was a faint flash of movement and as Tabby pointed her gun in the general direction it came from, there was another  _ thwip  _ and her weapon was taken away, hauled up to the top of a nearby building, where a lean form in red and blue was just visible. 

 

“Guns aren’t toys, kids.” The red-and-blue- Pietro was pretty certain how that it was that Spider-Man kid, briefly waggled his finger at them and then leapt away, just as a hurtling blast of flame came his way. John was able to redirect it when he missed, but Pietro knew almost immediately that they were going to have trouble catching him.  _ If I can get the bastard on the ground somehow.  _ Pietro started moving quickly, amazed at how much acceleration he needed to get before the kid in the stupid costume actually started looking slow.  _ He’s not as fast as I am, but he’s damn fast.  _

 

Fred picked up a car and hurled it at Spider-Man’s location, but it missed by a country mile, as Spider-Man moved forward to web up Tabby, wrapping her torso in webs, causing her to fall to the ground. John was able to get Spider-Man off the attack with a blast of flame, but once again, the tackily-costumed kid was far too fast for the other ones. He was a bit lower this time, and actually paused for the briefest of instants to web up John. 

 

Morty saw the opportunity and leapt at him- and almost actually made impact, but Spider-Man was able to leap out of the way just in time. Fred started moving in to back Morty up as the two of them started to fight hand-to-hand. Pietro knew that Mortimer could kick his way through an inch of good steel- he had no doubt that if he could connect, Spider-Man would be, to say the last, feeling some serious pain. But even though Morty was pretty fast, Spider-Man was faster and a single punch knocked Morty straight out. 

 

Pietro took out his sidearms as quickly as he could and started shooting- he wasn’t a crack shot, or experienced, but he could perceive Spider-Man better than any of the others. And that, really, was the damndest thing. Because he could clearly see that Spider-Man was dodging  _ before  _ he squeezed the trigger, rather than afterwards.  _ The actual fuck? How does someone hit this bastard?  _ A ball of webbing caught John in the chest and he was helplessly webbed to the side of a building. 

 

Fred was doing his best to do something about Spider-Man, but there was just no way he could make contact- he was far too slow. Pietro was quick enough to do so, but he was out of ammunition now and was sadly stuck on the ground.  _ Shit, what are we going to do?  _ And then before he knew it, Spider-Man was right up in his face. Pietro swung as hard as he could- he could punch pretty damn hard when he wanted to, but once again, the blow didn’t seem to connect and it left him open. The fist hit him in the gut and left him gasping on the ground. 

 

“Sorry, Roadrunner, but I got a busy night here.” Spider-Man shot several lines of webbing towards him and he fell down hard to the ground. The next thing he saw was a swiftly retreating red-and-blue form and a thoroughly exasperated Fred. The next thing he heard was the sound of approaching sirens.  _ What the fuck. This was supposed to be easy. Stupid Spider-Bastard. Ugh.  _

 

_ Dad’s going to kick my ass so hard for this. Unless Raven does it first.  _


	40. Longshot IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone in Latveria, Longshot must find a way to help save his friends!
> 
> He finds help from a surprising source. 
> 
> Doctor Doom's HOSED, y'all.

Longshot could only hope that his new friends would be okay. He knew they were going pretty much immediately into captivity- the small taste he’d had of what Doctor Doom could do suggested he was hardly a kind man.  _ Even Mojo and the Sugar Man simply wiped my mind. They didn’t try to take it over.  _ He’d have to go tell Piotr when they were all out that he wasn’t mad, that he knew it wasn’t his fault. The big guy seemed to be the kind who would feel bad for what had happened. He’d tell Betsy the same thing. 

 

_ Okay, I guess my job is to get into that gigantic looking castle. So first, I’ve got to get out of this foresty looking place.  _

 

Longshot picked himself off the ground, quickly cutting himself out of his parachute and taking to a nearby tree, which thankfully, were thick in Latveria, allowing him to move quietly between them as the police arrived. They were armed with weapons that looked like something out of that  _ Star Trek  _ show that he kind of liked- but they were talking and joking with each other. Longshot didn’t recognize the language, it certainly wasn’t English, but he could tell they weren’t proper soldiers. 

 

Longshot at first thought he’d landed in a forest, but it soon became clear that it was a park, like the park in Westchester, but bigger and cleaner. It didn’t look like the sort of place an evil supervillain would build, actually. There were laughing families and little kids and people were getting ice cream and some kind of tasty-looking meat-on-a-stick and something that looked like hot dogs, but smelled spicier. He swung to another tree, silently mouthing an apology to several squirrels that he startled. 

 

It took about ten minutes or so of moving through the trees until he saw the edges of the park, and there was a mountain, a properly forbidding one with steep rocky cliffs, that led up to the enormity of Castle Doom.  _ That,  _ Longshot decided,  _ is pretty typical supervillain stuff.  _ Castle Doom was colossal, rising hundreds of feet above a mountain that probably rose a few thousand feet by itself, with great dark grey walls and an almost total absence of colour. It was pretty much the opposite of what he’d seen before. 

 

Longshot took a breath, remembering his friends who needed him and hoping, hoping that his luck didn’t desert him, because there was a patch of open ground between the end of the forest and the cliffs of the castle. He listened. Not hearing anyone, he decided it was best to get on crossing the necessary distance and leapt down from the trees, landing and starting to run between anything that would give him cover. 

 

_ So far so good,  _ Longshot concluded as he reached the base of the cliffs, which were pretty steep. He was glad that his knives were specially forged to be able to handle being used as impromptu picks, because he’d need them. There was no question of being able to use a rope, and while there seemed to be a path in the distance, there was no cover and it’d probably be swarming in guards. The safest thing to do was to pretend he knew how to climb a mountain.  _ How hard could it actually be?  _

 

Longshot heard a faint chittering sound and looked up to see a little red squirrel looking down at him from about fifty feet up.  _ Don’t squirrels belong in trees?  _ That was what the nature book he’d read with Jean had told him. Squirrels lived in trees and saved up food for the winter to hibernate. That was another thing, actually, that Longshot realized about Latveria.  _ It should be pretty cold and it’s actually … I’m fine in just regular clothes without a jacket or anything.  _

 

“Hi there, little guy. I’d love to talk more, but I have to climb this cliff and uh, it’s my first time doing that, so … don’t suppose you can really help with that, can you?” Longshot doubted the squirrel could offer any assistance, but it seemed like it was worth trying.  _ Pretty much anything is worth trying. I’ve got friends who are counting on me.  _ He didn’t trust Doom’s assurances that he would not harm them. He’d already harmed Piotr and Betsy.  _ I have to find them fast.  _

 

The squirrel started chittering and scampered over slightly, looking pointedly at Longshot, who examined where the squirrel was perched.  _ Well, I’ll be.  _ It wasn’t exactly great, but there were handholds there. Some promising places for feet too. Longshot wasn’t sure how exactly the squirrel knew what he was saying, because he didn’t think they understood English- even if normal squirrels did, wouldn’t they speak Latverian in Latveria? Then again, Longshot had assumed that people spoke American in America, so what did he actually know about linguistics? He’d leave that to someone like Hank, or Jean. 

 

Longshot started following the squirrel’s directions and, between the fact that he was pretty agile anyway and the squirrel’s surprisingly specific advice, that he was making pretty excellent time. He cast an eye warily behind him. There didn’t seem to be anyone.  _ Maybe everyone’s distracted by taking my friends in. Maybe Scott had a plan for some kind of fight.  _ It didn’t  _ seem  _ like it, but Longshot knew that Scott was always full of plans. The weather was pretty fantastic, though, and that suggested pretty clearly to Longshot that Ororo wasn’t up to anything. 

 

“I guess I should thank you. I’d give you some nuts or something, but I’m fresh out ..” Longshot felt bad about that. The squirrel had saved him quite a bit of time and effort and he felt the least he could do was give it something nice to eat.  _ If squirrels had mailing addresses, I’d send something when I got back to the Institute. They have all kinds of nuts at the big supermarket.  _ The squirrel seemed to understand, though, and continued to lead him up the mountain until they reached a narrow, but doable ledge. They were about half the way up now, about a thousand feet over the treetops below.

 

The squirrel had no problems on the ledge at all, which didn’t surprise Longshot, because squirrels were a lot smaller than people and better climbers to boot. It looked at him and then started moving along the ledge, clearly wanting him to follow.  _ Well, it hasn’t led me wrong yet. I might as well continue.  _ Longshot followed the squirrel, trusting in his natural balance and his luck moving along the narrow ledge. 

 

They reached what looked like a small cave mouth, though when Longshot looked at it more closely, it didn’t look like it’d been dug out or blasted out with explosives so much as it looked like it had been melted out. The rock looked like it’d cooled since then, but Longshot wondered what had caused it. He kind of hoped that Castle Doom wasn’t built on a volcano, because then the volcano might erupt and he didn’t think that even his luck could protect him against that. 

 

“This the way in, little guy?” Longshot asked, as the squirrel chirped back in the affirmative and scampered in. It wasn’t quite wide enough for Longshot to stand in, though there was plenty of room for him to crawl around in. As ever, the squirrel had an even easier time of it, being tiny. Longshot supposed that perhaps it was a risky thing trusting the squirrel, but he figured that if the squirrel was somehow working for Doctor Doom, it would have found a way to alert guards already. 

 

The tunnel quickly ended in what looked like a dead end at first, but turned out to only be hastily boarded up. The squirrel scampered through a small hole in the boards and Longshot braced himself against the smooth walls of the tunnel and kicked as hard as he could, sending bits of wood flying everywhere. He hoped that the squirrel was out of the way and that it didn’t get hit by any splinters. Longshot would have felt absolutely  _ terrible  _ about that. 

 

Longshot came out of the tunnel and true to form, the first guard of the jailbreak had appeared, yelling at him first in whatever language people spoke in Latveria and then in … actually, the English wasn’t bad. But Longshot didn’t have time to compliment him on that, because he had to knock the guy out. He bounced off of a wall and moved to strike the guard on the side of the head. Longshot looked around quickly.  _ If there was one guard, there will be others soon.  _

 

“Hi, can you hear me?” 

 

_ Well, that wasn’t a squirrel. Or a guard.  _ The voice definitely sounded like a human, like a little girl, actually.  _ A prisoner?  _ It would be more practical, in some ways, to simply go about his mission, but then again- no.  _ If an actual kid is a prisoner of Doctor Doom, I have to rescue her. And if it’s a trap, well, I’ve fallen for traps before. There’s always a chance someone needs my help.  _ He couldn’t possibly live with himself knowing that he could have helped someone and didn’t. 

 

“I can hear you. My name’s Longshot.” Longshot spoke quietly. There’s guards coming down the hallway. “Where are you?” 

 

“In the cell, two to the left. Where the squirrel is! His name is Monkey Joe!” The little girl’s voice sounded excited to hear someone. “I knew that he’d find someone who could help me bust out of here! My name’s Squirrel Girl! Well, my  _ parents  _ call me Doreen, but I’m totally Squirrel Girl.” 

 

Longshot dashed over to the cell, where he saw what looked like warnings, written in Latverian, but also in English. They were in very large, bold lettering and it suggested that Squirrel Girl was regarded as some sort of major threat. 

 

**PRISONER XIX: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. USE EXTREME CAUTION. NUT PRODUCTS BANNED WITHIN 100 METERS OF CELL. DO NOT FEED THE SQUIRRELS.**

 

Longshot took a moment to read it, he wasn’t that good at reading yet, but the message was pretty clear. It was obvious that Doctor Doom thought that the girl inside the cell was some sort of major threat to him. Which meant to Longshot that he was even more determined to break her out than before. Which meant that Longshot had to find a way  _ in.  _ There was some kind of control panel in front of the cell. 

 

“Any idea what the password is?” Longshot asked, hearing the faint sound of guards approaching. “I’m not very good at hacking.” He was pretty sure that’s what it was called. Kitty apparently did it sometimes. Maybe when they got back, he’d have to ask her for hacking lessons in case he needed to break any young superheroes out of supervillain jails. 

 

“Cynthia. It’s Cynthia.” Squirrel Girl insisted. “I found out a few days ago, but squirrels can’t really use the keys. It needs human hands. Kind of specist of them.” She paused. “Like racism, but with species!”

 

Longshot thought she sounded logical enough and he punched in the password, astonished that it seemed to actually work, just as the door opened and Squirrel Girl herself bounded out, an adorably freckly brunette with prominent buck teeth and a gigantic, bushy tail that looked  _ incredibly  _ soft. Longshot wasn’t very good at guessing ages, because he wasn’t around a lot of people of different ages, but she was definitely younger than Kitty, maybe about the same age as Illyana, though not as tall. She was dressed in what was clearly a homemade superhero costume, reddish-brown just like her hair, or like her squirrel friend. 

 

“So … I’ve got some friends I need to rescue. Is there somewhere close by I can bring you that’s safe?” Longshot didn’t have a lot of time, but he sure as heck wasn’t going to leave a kid behind. The guards were getting closer. He didn’t have much time for Squirrel Girl to make up her mind. Otherwise, he’d simply have to take her with him and just hope that he could keep her safe. 

 

“Heck no! I came here to defeat Doctor Doom and I am  _ totally  _ gonna do it? Are your friends a superhero team? Oh my god, that would be so amazing if you were!” Squirrel Girl seemed unbothered by the approaching guards. “Are you an  _ Avenger?  _ Oh my god, I’ve always wanted to meet Captain America!”

 

“Uh, we’re not the Avengers … we’re more just starting ou-” A burst of some sort of energy weapon finished the conversation and Longshot took out two of his knives. “Stay here. I can handle thi-” But clearly Squirrel Girl had no intention of doing that, and to be fair, she could clearly move with as much agility as he could. And those spikes that came out her knuckles didn’t look like a joking thing either. 

 

Squirrel Girl plowed into the guards and knocked them over like bowling pins, laying into them with swift kicks and punches. One of the guards found his gun mangled by one of her knuckle spikes, another was blinded by having a huge fluffy tail stuck in his face. In the end, Longshot found himself basically playing mop-up, making sure none of the guards got back up or hit Squirrel Girl in the back when she wasn’t looking. It was a pretty impressive spectacle and Longshot was starting to think that his chances of being able to save his friends just rose. 

 

“That was fun!” Squirrel Girl grinned back at Longshot, showing those adorably huge buck teeth. “But we’re not gonna beat Doctor Doom with punches alone!” 

 

“He took over some of my friends’ minds.” Longshot remembered that bitterly. He also remembered Scott saying something about Doctor Doom basically being made of metal now. “He’s supposed to have a whole bunch of other powers too. And big fancy machines. But I’m sure we’ll think of something.” It was probably not great for Longshot to expect a lot of a young girl like her, but she’d proven herself pretty well. Those guards had been dealt with  _ quickly.  _

 

“There isn’t a machine in the  _ world  _ that squirrels can’t wreck.” Squirrel Girl pronounced with another big grin. “Just … watch over me for a moment. I can call squirrels that are close to me really easily, but I kinda gotta concentrate to get lots of them.” Just as soon as she said that, she closed her eyes and put her hands to her temples. “Good thing for us, Latveria is  _ full  _ of squirrels. And nice big oak forests with acorns. If it weren’t for that mean ol’ Doctor Doom, this would be the  _ best  _ place for a squirrel to be!” 

 

More guards arrived at that moment and Longshot moved to deal with them quickly, hoping that Squirrel Girl could call her friends quickly, because sooner or later, Doctor Doom was going to realize his guards were being knocked out pretty steadily and that he was going to send something much bigger and nastier after them. Idly, as he punched a guard in the face, he wondered how many squirrels Squirrel Girl could actually summon. Longshot wasn’t a squirrel expert, but he imagined they would need a lot of squirrels to make any impact. 

 

Squirrel Girl opened her eyes again. “They’re coming.” 

 

“How many? I mean, I’m pretty pro-squirrel right now, but a few squirrels aren’t going to help us much against Doctor Doom. I also … I don’t want to see a bunch of squirrels get hurt either.” Longshot was worried about that. Doctor Doom possessed people and imprisoned little girls and built huge scary castles on bleak mountains. He was pretty sure that Doom would have no problems whatsoever with hurting as many squirrels as it took. 

 

“How many squirrels?” Squirrel Girl replied and there was a little glint in her eye that made Longshot suddenly glad she was a new friend and not an enemy. It occurred to him that Doctor Doom must have thought she was an important prisoner to put all those signs up. She grinned. “All the squirrels, Longshot. I just called up  _ all _ of the squirrels.” 

 

That was when Longshot felt a faint movement in the ground around them, as little stray bits of rock began dancing on the floor. He looked towards Squirrel Girl for a moment but she simply grinned back at him.  _ Is that squirrels? Squirrels are tiny. If that’s squirrels causing that, how many squirrels are there?  _

 

The next thing Longshot saw was a tsunami of squirrels, a gigantic tidal wave of tree-dwelling rodents, more squirrels than he could ever have imagined, red squirrels, grey squirrels, black squirrels, squirrels that were three times the size of the others. Longshot glanced up at Squirrel Girl for a moment, wide-eyed.  _ That is one heck of a superpower.  _

 

“All. The. Squirrels.” Squirrel Girl grinned. “Come on, let’s go kick Doctor Doom’s chromey butt and save your friends.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him off excitedly, with a colossal multitude of squirrels following, possibly, indeed, all of the squirrels. 


	41. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (mostly) second-strong team of X-Men are being assembled!
> 
> Hank gets a message from an old friend! There's a reunion and a hug!
> 
> And a lot of suspicion. And desperation.

Hank didn’t expect anything to pop up on his phone, with the power dead, so when his phone buzzed, he picked it up immediately.  _ Well, that is an interesting development.  _ He hadn’t heard from her for quite awhile, since she’d left Empire State University in order to work for Shaw Industries. Once upon a time, they had been rather close friends and working partners and if he was honest, Hank had to admit that he’d had significantly more than simply friendly feelings for Miss Tessa Hartley. 

 

But that was a long time ago.  _ Why is she contacting me now?  _

 

**Tessa says:** Hello, Hank. 

**Hank says:** Delighted as I am to hear from you again, I’m rather busy right now. 

**Tessa says:** Magneto’s tipped his hand. He’s attacking Cape Citadel, but I’m guessing you knew that already. 

**Hank says:** … I’m not even going to pretend that I don’t know what you’re talking about, because it’s manifest that you know everything. So, the next question is … how? 

**Tessa says:** I’m Sebastian Shaw’s personal assistant and an adviser to the President on mutant affairs. I have my sources. Need a ride? ;)

**Hank says:** Excuse me? 

**Tessa says:** Who’s at the Institute? 

**Hank says:** Remind me why I should trust you with any information? 

**Tessa says:** You wound me, Hank. We used to be such good friends. 

**Hank says:** I’m not in a sentimental mood. I’m just about desperate enough to allow actual students on a dangerous mission. Get to the point. 

**Tessa says:** I’m coming by with an aircraft and Warren. He was rather insistent. 

**Hank says:** I see. 

**Tessa says:** Oh, don’t tell me you’re estranged from him as well. You’re on the verge of ruining your reputation as an honorary Canadian. 

**Hank says:** I fail to see anything remotely humorous about the situation. 

**Tessa says:** There is an excellent chance that I will die today. Humour is a powerful coping mechanism. 

**Hank says:** You’re not responsible for any children. 

**Tessa says:** Thank goodness. I’d make a terrible mother. 

**Hank says:** Lots of time to worry about that, I suppose. 

**Tessa says:** You know, I have missed you, Hank. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone on my level. I’m very sorry to hear about you and Trish. 

**Hank says:** You should have joined Xavier. You still could. 

**Tessa says:** I’m far too conniving and selfish for that, but ‘flustered professor’ is a good look on you. For what it’s worth, Trish is an idiot. 

**Hank says:** I don’t want to get into it. Let’s focus on not getting killed. 

**Tessa says:** Very well. I’ll see you soon, Hank. 

**Hank says:** Indeed. 

 

“So, not to pry or anything … but who was that?” Jean asked, turning around from her seat. She looked worn and exhausted now, especially since they had lost contact with the others in Latveria.  _ The possibilities do not bear thinking about. I have to simply trust that Scott and the others are all right and will find a way back home.  _ Hank set the phone down to face her properly. 

 

“An old friend of mine, from Empire State University.” Hank replied. “She’s … a person with some influence. And it’s possible that she has secured some form of transportation and is coming here.” Hank’s expression turned even more serious. “Robert and Katherine were right about their supposition. Magneto’s attacking Cape Citadel.”  _ Likely his intention all along. One can only hope that part of the agreement with Doom was not to harm our friends too badly.  _ “Apparently Warren is coming with her.” 

 

Jean took a breath and slumped forward slightly in her chair. “So … we’ve both been trying not to think about this too much. We’re … a lot of us aren’t here right now. There’s two adults in the school right now and I’ve only been an adult for a few months.” She laughed slightly, but the laughter didn’t remotely reach her eyes. “Kitty, Bobby and Rogue are going to want to go along and I’m not sure if we can actually leave them behind if we’re to have  _ any  _ chance. This is  _ Lehnsherr.  _ The two of us aren’t remotely a match for him. And I love Warren, but he’s not exactly a balance on Magneto. What about your … friend? She’s an Omega mutant, right? Nullifies magnetic fields?” 

 

“Enhanced intelligence, some telepathy, essentially a short-range Cerebro.” Hank replied. “Tessa’s had an eclectic range of training and experience in her life and her abilities result in a fairly daunting skillset. But … not a real counterbalance to Magneto.” Hank hated even the thought that they would possibly need to take along any of the students that would volunteer, and he was fairly certain that Charles would flay him alive- but Magneto was within striking range of a nuclear facility. What other option did they realistically have? 

 

“I was really hoping for an Omega-level magnetic nullifier.” Jean replied, going for a snarky tone, but sounding exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “I keep thinking it’s wrong for, say, Kitty to go, but look at me. I’m a goddamn mess. I’ve been plugged in and out of Cerebro for hours.” She didn’t say it, but Hank knew that not knowing where Scott or Wanda was was weighing heavily upon her. He could feel it himself, he had friends in Latveria as well. 

 

“Jean.” Hank tried his best to sound caring but firm, reaching out to take her comparatively tiny hands inside his massive paws. “We need to hold it together. Both of us. For Charles, Scott and Wanda, for the others. I promise you, once we’re all back, I’m going to push  _ very  _ hard for a class holiday. This isn’t, this isn’t what I’m suited for. I’m a scientist, not a fighter.” That was Scott, Scott had always been the one with the dreams of being a superhero, like Captain America. Hank had always admired Reed Richards for his science far more than his superheroics. 

 

“And I’m a teacher.” Jean replied. “But we’ve both got abilities that we can use and well, if Magneto has his way, there might not be a lot of need for teachers or scientists in the future.” She reached over and gulped down the remnants of what had once been a hot cup of tea. “Can we trust this friend of yours? I wish … Warren’s with her, but we both know that Warren isn’t always the best judge of character.” 

 

“Well enough for our purposes.” Hank replied. “If we’re going to be crazy enough to actually attempt this, we need all the help we can get. We were rather good friends back in the day.” Thinking on it, Hank had very fond memories of late nights in the laboratory, ordering pizza into the physics lab while running experiments on a nuclear core. He also remembered, on several occasions, wrestling with how to properly ask her out, and that horrid, toxic combination of emotions he’d felt when he found out she’d been sleeping with Dr. Lehnsherr. 

 

_ Well, that does make the plot an awful lot thicker. And ew. I keep thinking that Lehnsherr has reached some kind of new low and he just digs himself deeper and deeper.  _

 

_ I’d tell you not to go prying about into my thoughts, but I’m probably bleeding them all over the place.  _ The truth was that Hank was nearly as tired as Jean was, both of them had been exhausting themselves trying to gather whatever information they could while keeping track of their friends. Hank reached for the lukewarm remnants of his own coffee and gulped it down.  _ On the other hand, it will be nice to see Warren again. It’s been awhile.  _

 

_ It has.  _ Jean actually managed a small smile at that. “We should try and get ourselves awake and ready. It’s going to be a long day.” She took a deep breath and then he saw the determination and grit he knew lurked deep inside that gentle, kind exterior. “Let’s make a much longer one for Lehnsherr.” Hank knew that Jean had disliked Erik for a very, very long time. In the past, he had tended to think that she was a little hard on the man, but now, well, anything that gave any of them the edge they needed to take the man down was welcome. 

 

About ten minutes later, Hank had splashed a little cold water into his face and made another cup of coffee, this one blessedly hot and as strong as he could possibly take it.  _ Nothing like the toxic sludge that Scott likes to call Cafe a la Summers, but then again, not everyone has a lead stomach like he does.  _ He took as big a gulp of it as he could handle easily and looked over the others, dressed in their X-Men training uniforms. 

 

Katherine looked practically gung-ho- if anything, she was trying to hold it in, trying not to look too eager, but there was no mistaking that she was excited to have a chance to prove herself. Bobby next to her was considerably less enthusiastic, but there was a rare determination on his face. Rogue was even more determined-looking, though hers was a lot grimmer. Hank knew that she’d been friendly with Erik before and that her mother was Erik’s lover. He couldn’t help but be somewhat astonished by the girl’s determination to do the right thing. 

 

Hank was more than slightly surprised that Jubilee had volunteered, seeing as she hadn’t, as far as he could see, integrated particularly well into the Institute. He imagined that it was difficult to transition from a life of radical independence to one with much stronger constraints, even if the Institute was far more secure.  _ I should get to know the girl better. We all should. We’ve been so continually busy with catastrophe after catastrophe that we’ve barely had the chance to be acquainted with our own students.  _

 

“So I hear we had to bum a ride.” Jubilee snapped her gum loudly. “So … where is it? I dunno about you all, but I’m kinda wanting to get on with this.” She bounced on her feet and Hank knew immediately that she was trying to cover up her very real fear with nonchalant swagger. 

 

“I considered hitchhiking, but a better alternative presented itself.” Hank actually smiled slightly and was pleasantly surprised when Jubilee grinned back at him. “A friend was kind enough to offer a ride. You did bring gas money, right?” 

 

“Aw, shit. Forgot.” Jubilee actually grinned back at him. “Your friend’s gonna have to take an IOU on that one. But they do get the pleasure of my company.” Hank noticed Kitty rolling her eyes out of the corner of his own. He had got the vague idea that the two girls did not particularly like each other.  _ Perhaps mortal danger at the hands of an incredibly powerful megalomaniac will be a bonding experience. It might have to be. We’ll have to function as a team. And Jean and I are going to have to figure out how to lead one.  _

 

Jean walked in in her own uniform, the nervous exhaustion seemingly gone from her countenance. If she was putting on an act, it was a good one, because she looked  _ ready  _ for this in a way that Hank could not really reliably say that he was himself. He’d known that she had disliked Erik for a very long time, but whatever had happened in the intervening ten minutes, Jean looked like she was just about spoiling for a fight. Hank remembered seeing the readings from that one training session- she had the power to rival Erik. 

 

Today would likely be the day that she would need to unleash it. 

 

“I want to be very, very realistic about what we’re doing here. The Professor didn’t approve of this, could never approve of it, would never.” Jean looked each of them in the eye. “We’re going to go into a deadly battle with a very powerful and skilled opponent who, judging by his actions and his words, is increasingly unhinged. There is a very real risk that some or all of us won’t be coming back from it. I don’t like the fact that we’re so desperate for anything that can possibly stop this madman that I’m actually willing to entertain the idea of taking you into a fight like this. 

 

But, since I am that desperate, since we’re all on the absolute knife’s edge, thank you. Thank you for your courage.” Jean took a deep breath. “Hank and I will take full responsibility for whatever happens. But right now, we’re in a situation where it won’t matter how long you’re grounded, because there might not be anywhere to be grounded  _ to.  _ The rules exist for good reasons- very good reasons, but I guess we’re all breaking them together.

 

I know this man. Magneto, Erik Lehnsherr. He’s powerful, he’s skilled, I’m not going to deny that. But he’s arrogant. He thinks he’s perfect and infallible and he’s just a man. Just as human as any of the rest of us. So let’s go kick his ass. It’s really fucking overdue.” 

 

“Damn, Jean, you give quite a pep talk.” Warren grinned as he sauntered into the room. “Uh, hey Bobby. Hank.” His wings fluttered slightly, probably happy to be free of the harness he usually wore. “Almost like old times, huh? Scott’s gonna be sorry he missed out on it. It’s been awhile since I’ve done much of anything. Hopefully I’m not too rusty from all our training in the old days.” 

 

“It’s good to see you again, Warren.” Hank couldn’t help but grin and pretty much immediately went over to hug him tightly. Jean and Bobby got the hint and went over to join it.  _ There are too many people missing here. Scott should be here. Pietro and Wanda as well.  _ Nevertheless, however, Hank was truly grateful that he could face what lie ahead with some of his closest friends. “It’s been far too long, friend.” Finally, reluctantly he pulled away. 

 

“I know I’ve been kind of a lousy pal.” Warren admitted, clapping his hands on Hank’s shoulders. “That’s going to change, though, starting today. There’s a lot of big things that are going to be happening. When everyone’s safe and back where they should be, we have a lot of things to talk about.” 

 

“We do.” Tessa added as she walked into the room, her usual business-chic look exchanged for a snug dark tactical outfit, a wide variety of interesting-looking technology placed along it. “Today is nothing less than the new beginning that you had no idea about.” She smiled thinly. Hank noticed that, despite heading into a combat situation, she’d still done her hair and makeup immaculately.  _ You’ve never wanted to be anything less than perfect, have you, Tessa?  _

 

“We haven’t had the pleasure.” Jean turned towards Tessa. “You must be Tessa.” She extended a hand somewhat warily, which Tessa took firmly. “Thanks for the ride, and for the help.”  _ I’m not sure I love the idea of this new beginning she’s talking about,  _ Jean thought to Hank,  _ do you have any idea what she’s actually on about?  _

 

_ Tessa loves being mysterious. I’ve known her for years. That trait has not changed at all. I expect we’ll find out in due time. But I trust that she won’t stab me in the back.  _

 

“Fascinating as I’m sure your telepathic dialogue is, we’ve got a mission. I can disable the nukes if needed, ensure he can’t launch them. I’m not, however, of overmuch use in an open fight against him. Kitty, I want you with me. Your ability to disrupt electronics might be handy if I don’t have the time to do it properly. Jean and Bobby, you have the ability to at the very least, keep him busy. If he’s constantly defending, he may not be able to launch an overwhelming attack. Jubilee, his energy fields will stop your plasmoids from making direct contact- but his eyes are as vulnerable as anyone. Rogue, you may just be invulnerable enough and hit with enough impact to attempt a direct attack on his shield. Do not do so, however, unless he is  _ completely  _ occupied.” 

 

“You want to change those directions into some suggestions?” Jean raised her eyebrow.  _ Oh dear, the last thing we need. A personality conflict.  _

 

Hank sighed. “I’m certain that Tessa intended them as suggestions. Suggestions that, however, we would be well advised to take into serious consideration. We do not have time to sort out any personal disagreements. Magneto is about to attack or is attacking a nuclear base. There are enough nuclear weapons at that facility to kill at least a hundred million people and possibly trigger a nuclear exchange that would wipe out just about every species on the planet.” 

 

Jean nodded. “Fine. Like I said, I’ve wanted to kick Lehnsherr’s ass for years. Let’s go do it.” 

  
  



	42. Ororo III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Doom is basically the antithesis of everything that Ororo holds dear, and yet, he offers her an easy way out. 
> 
> Will she take it? Or will she do her best to kick his ass?
> 
> Also, where's that squirrel tsunami?

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Doom gazed towards Ororo for a moment and then towards the expanse of old growth forest on the north side of Castle Doom. His metallic mask was difficult to gaze upon for a long period of time- it could almost perfectly mimic the movements of muscles and flesh, but there was something ill-defined that was  _ wrong  _ about it. Doom seemed  _ dead  _ to her, no longer a man but some manner of walking steel corpse, animated by arrogance as much as by either his technology or his magic. 

 

“It is quite something to see.” Ororo replied warily, but there was something wrong about that expanse of forest that she saw as well. Even dimmed as they were by whatever technology Doom had to dampen their mutant abilities, she could sense that this wasn’t really old-growth forest, any more than Doom had flesh. Like everything else about the so-called man, it was a sophisticated con, long on style, but painfully short on substance.  _ But how can he foster life? He’s dead. How can he nurture the spirit of nature when he doesn’t have a soul himself?  _

 

“I didn’t want any of this to happen, Ororo. I would have been quite happy to hear your case. I am both reasonable and generous. But your … friends forced my hand.” Doom paused for a moment, where a living man would breathe, but of course, he didn’t breathe any more than he ate or he slept. “Still, they are but young and foolish. Perhaps I can grant them mercy yet.” Cold metallic eyes regarded her for a long moment. “Why did you come with them? You are not like them. You’re a creature of nature, a child of the elements. Stormborn.” 

 

“They are my friends.” Ororo answered, wishing, insanely, that she had a knife in her hands even if she knew that it would make no difference. Whatever Doom’s flesh had been transmogrified into by the same radiation that afflicted the Fantastic Four, a blade would do him no real harm, even if it penetrated. All that would happen is that he would laugh, actually laugh. Few notions could possibly have filled her with more revulsion. 

 

“Are they? How long have you actually known them?” Doom’s dead excuses for eyes settled back on her intently. “It was a mistake of you to have come. For all of them, but most particularly for you. Scott, at least, feels a familial bond with Miss Maximova.” 

 

“Miss Lehnsher-” Ororo was about to correct him, but she was cut off and those cold, dead eyes fixed her with a glare that cut into her very soul.  _ Goddess, I can barely bear to be in the same room as the man.  _ There were no truly adequate words to describe how much she hated not just him, but the concept of him. He was offensive to everything she had ever held dear, a vile crime against nature, something worse even than a demon.

 

“Do not say that name. Wanda is her  _ mother’s  _ daughter. I learned all about what Lehnsherr did to Magda. How he treated her.” Someone else might have interpreted his statement as a sign of the mask fading, but Ororo thought he was trying to convince himself that he was angry about it, that he still felt enough to be indignant on someone’s behalf.  _ If you really cared about her, you bastard, it was well within your means to contact her while she was alive. You cannot convince me otherwise.  _

 

“Such hostility.” Doom seemed amused by that. She found his amusement infinitely more distressing than his anger. In rage, perhaps, he seemed almost human. Ororo imagined that he watched his enemies tormented and broken with the same vague pleasure as she might watch a film or television show. “I should be gravely insulted by those thoughts of yours. I have destroyed men for lesser offences.”  _ Then be angry. Anger won’t make you any less of an unnatural abomination.  _

 

“Thankfully for you, I am merciful in the extreme.” Doom held out a closed fist which opened to reveal what looked like a ticket. “A one-way ticket on Air Latveria to Nairobi and from there to whatever connecting flight takes you closest to your home in Africa. You do not belong with these crusading fools. You’re a child of the storm, you should go home. Your own people need you. Their living goddess, their beautiful windrider.” 

 

Another man might have leered as he said that, and once upon a time, Ororo imagined that Doom himself would have. As little as she desired his attention, at least base lust would be something  _ human.  _ As offended as she usually was to have strange men come onto her, she would rather endure a million catcalls than spend another second with this cold, dead creature that still called itself a man. She wished, fervently, that she could call up all the power of the elements and wipe him and his falsehoods off the face of the planet. 

 

“Take this and go. A free woman, able to carve out a life much more to your liking than they can ever give you.” Doom held his hand open wide. Ororo had no reason to doubt his sincerity and yet, it all could not have seemed more diabolical if the Devil himself sprang from the ground stinking of brimstone and made her sign away her soul in exchange for the offered boon. 

 

There was undeniably a part of her that was tempted to take the offer and go back home, back where she could feel the hot sun on her face during the day and the delicious cool at night, to ride the four winds, to guide Nature to protect both the herders on the plateau and the farmers in the valleys below. Ororo missed gliding along with the antelope as they made their progress.  _ I was beloved there, I served a purpose. I enjoyed it. I never had to consider how hated mutants are in the rest of the world.  _

 

And yet, when Ororo allowed herself to really think about it, how incredibly selfish it all seemed to tuck herself away in one place, to refuse to help others because she did not feel completely comfortable in a particular locale.. The very same hatred that she found so baffling and alien to her experience necessitated that a sanctuary be built and defended where people could feel belonging and acceptance. A world that was so seemingly lost needed all the help it could get.  _ I have not known Logan, Piotr, or Hank for very long and yet they are my friends. I trust them and they trust me.  _

 

_ I cannot let them down.  _

 

“A noble sentiment, Ororo. But a hopeless cause. The only way any of the others will ever leave Latveria is by my sufferance. I am not finished with them yet.” Ororo could barely prevent herself from shuddering at the thought of what Doom might have planned for them- it was surely far worse than simple physical torture. Ororo would never forget the sudden possession of Betsy or Piotr, as long as she lived. It was a hideous and cruel thing he had done to them. “Do not spurn my generosity.” 

 

Ororo took a breath. It might have looked like hesitation to an outsider, perhaps even to Doom himself, but it wasn’t that at all. She could still feel, ever so vaguely, her connection to Nature.  _ Whatever power he has over us is not total. Either that or my bond to the Goddess is great enough to at least partially overcome it. If I ever ever needed that strength, Goddess, the time is now.  _ She could distantly feel the living power residing within the clouds, within the water vapour in the air.  _ If only I could …  _

 

“You have no power here. Accept the salvation I offer. There is none other for you.” The words hung thick in the air and she felt the little bit of power she still had slipping further and further away.  _ He’s intensifying whatever field he has up, or possibly, fortifying his technology with his foul, unnatural magic.  _ The flickering hope that she’d had before began to dim as Ororo faced the terrifying possibility of being, for the first time since she was a small girl, without the Earth’s spirit inside her. 

 

Ororo remembered the screaming then, the rubble, the slow, lingering death of her parents, being trapped in an airless tomb with them. She had been lost, desperately lost, for a long time thereafter, being a child thief on the streets of Cairo. But then, she had heard the Goddess and suddenly, she wasn’t trapped anymore. She was  _ free,  _ she could  _ fly _ . The Earth had become the mother that she had lost all those years ago. She had learned to listen to it, to feel its living rhythms, to harness its power. 

 

Ororo reached out for her Mother and suddenly, like the spring rains after the long months of the dry season, she  _ found  _ her.  _ Yes. Oh yes. I can feel you again.  _ All of the fear that she had felt until then dissolved like the snows on the mountainside. The clouds gathered, so grey there were almost black. Doom’s eyes flickered around, clearly surprised by the development. 

 

“Do not be a fool, Ororo. Your power means nothing here.” Doom’s tone was just as taunting as ever, but he seemed less than certain.  _ Something else is happening.  _ Ororo could feel the resistance to her power slackening, weakening and then cutting out entirely.  _ Sabotage.  _ She smiled ever so faintly.  _ Scott was right. Longshot did it after all.  _

 

“No. I will not take your so-called salvation.” Ororo finally replied. “I reject it. I reject you. You stain the earth by walking upon it.” Ororo gestured and a bolt of lightning arced down from the heavens and blasted into Doom. The stink of burning metal filled the air, but Ororo knew it would take far more than that to finish him.  _ All I needed was to stagger him for a second or two.  _ She summoned the greatest straight-line wind that she could, intent on knocking him straight off the balcony of the castle. 

 

“Fool!” Doom cried out in what seemed like genuine surprise as he was knocked over the railing of the castle. For a second or two, it seemed as if the impossible had happened, as if all of his dread power was completely smoke and mirrors after all, but it was then that she saw the liquid metal creeping, flowing over the railings again and resolving into the form of Doom again. Ororo threw the power of the wind at him again, but this time, a shimmering energy field formed around him. “You should have accepted my mercy.” A blast of greenish energy shot out towards her and she felt an unimaginable pain, both physical and mental. 

 

“All you can hope for now is a quick death.” Doom moved his other hand towards her and redoubled his efforts, forcing her on her knees. Ororo saw her father and mother lying there, crushed and dead, close enough to  _ smell,  _ but too far away for her to help or to help  _ her.  _ Ororo felt the crushing dead of her claustrophobia, saw the human wreckage the warlords had left among the people she had protected.  _ No. I can’t let him win.  _

 

Relief came first in a thundercrack as a beam of crimson energy blasted out towards Doom, smashing into his energy field, not penetrating it, but physically knocking him back several feet. The pain stopped and Ororo took a ragged gulp of a breath and slowly got to her feet. She focused herself as best as she could to bring up a driving sleet, to do her best to encase both the field and the man within in a thick layer of ice. Doom indignantly smashed through it, his body flowing as much as he moved, only to be intercepted by Piotr, who turned back his attack with a resounding blow. 

 

“You cannot harm me.” Doom’s hand reached out to bat Piotr aside. He gestured grandly, and Ororo suspected that it was supposed to trigger something, some deadly weapon within the castle, but there was no response. He glared at them, the most human-like expression he had seen from them yet, just as Logan and Betsy arrived onto the scene, along with Kurt and Wanda. A bolt of scarlet energy hit Doom and Ororo could see that Wanda’s power had somehow reduced the cohesion of his body. “What matter of treachery is this?” 

 

“It’s not treachery!” A small female voice piped up from down the hallway, a voice that was followed by a faint rumbling in the Earth. The rumbling grow closer. Doom reformed himself and tried to shoot at Wanda, but Kurt teleported her out of the way. When he heard that voice, his eyes opened somewhat wider.  _ What is causing that rumbling?  _ None of them had seismic powers. It was possible that it could be a horde of Doom’s guards coming to the rescue of their master, but why then would Doom seem … frightened? 

 

“... you have no idea what you have done.” Doom finally growled. “Of the monstrosity which you have unleashed.”  _ He does sound frightened.  _ Ororo desperately wanted to see whatever it was that concerned him so much. She was no fool, she knew that the power her and her friends wielded was enough to match him at best, to defend themselves well enough to make some sort of retreat. 

 

“It’s SQUIRRELS!” A small girl exclaimed, followed by Longshot and more squirrels than Ororo knew ever existed on the face of the planet Earth, a multitude of squirrels, a tidal wave of them. It was wondrous and terrifying to behold at the same time, a vastness that could barely be comprehended except by direct experience. The rest of them scrambled out of the way of the rodenty vastness, which hurtled towards Doom. Blast them as he might, attack and harm one or several of them as he did, there were simply too many. 

 

“Enough! Take your Blackbird and begone!” Doom cried out as he was completely swallowed up in the colossal mass of squirrels, which, as he said those words, retreated just far enough to allow him to stand amid them. “Leave this place, but know that my hatred follows you.” Ororo swallowed the temptation to laugh.  _ The greatest villain on the face of the Earth, defeated by tiny rodents.  _ It was all almost too ridiculous to be true. 

 

“Just try it, you great big meanie! There’s millions of squirrels in America and they’ll kick your butts-” The small girl, who sported buck teeth and an enormous squirrely tail was gently removed from her victory speech by Longshot. 

 

“Let’s just go, we’ll kick his butts with squirrels again another day.” The girl nodded solemnly. The squirrel horde remained in place, completely occupying the grand throne room. As Ororo and her friends moved out, the squirrels simply moved aside, leaving a narrow channel for them to cross.  _ If someone had told me yesterday that someone could control squirrels as a superpower, I would not believe them. Still less that such a mutant could overpower the world’s most formidable supervillain.  _

 

“Nice trick with the squirrels, kid.” Logan looked over to the young girl with a faint grin as he lit up a cigar that he somehow managed to keep on his person despite being captured. “You got a name?” 

 

“I’m Squirrel Girl! And I’m gonna go back to your mutant school! I’ll call my parents from there. They’ll be so excited to hear that I can go to a school where I don’t have to hide my tail! And Longshot says you guys can eat nuts! I am  _ so  _ tired of not being able to eat nuts at school. Do you have math class there?” Squirrel Girl babbled excitedly, clearly absolutely thrilled to have met them. Ororo couldn’t help but smile, regardless of everything else they had been through. 

 

“Yes, we have math class.” Scott replied, trying to restrain obvious amusement. 

 

“They also help you learn to read better.” Longshot added. “I do something called guided reading with Jean. She’s really nice and she’s really good at what she does. Maybe you could do that too.” 

 

“I must say, I don’t think I’ll ever look at squirrels quite the same way again.” Betsy glanced around her a little carefully. 

 

“Squirrels are the  _ best.”  _ Squirrel Girl pronounced with all the gravity of a presidential address. “And Doctor Doom is the  _ worst.  _ C’mon, let’s get out of here and go bust up some more supervillains! And skip math class, because ew, math.” Scott looked for a moment like he was going to say something, but clearly thought better of it. They continued to weave their way through the colossal mass of squirrels towards the Blackbird. It really  _ was  _ an astounding number of them. 

  
  



	43. Erik V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magneto breaks into the Cape Citadel missile facility. The world exists on a razor's edge, with nuclear apocalypse a very real possibility. 
> 
> But what will he do when the X-Men arrive on the scene to try and stop him?

Magneto had expected that Cape Citadel was not connected to the civilian power grid at all- it would be the height of lunacy to have a base containing three dozen or more nuclear weapons have its security protocols liable to the vagaries of an aging infrastructure. He had anticipated as well, that there would be plenty of security surrounding the base. Surely there had been some manner of directive to secure Cape Citadel as soon as Magneto had made his announcement and the lights had gone out throughout most of the Eastern Seaboard. 

 

Even so, it was a bit of a novelty to be fired upon by anti-aircraft missiles when he arrived. However, none of the missiles would hit their targets, as Magneto turned the missiles around with his powers and they hit their own batteries, creating terrific explosions which decimated the guards around. They continued firing at him, as if their metallic projectiles would have even the slightest impact on him.  _ Unfortunately for them, I do not have the time to be careful or merciful.  _ Most of the guards would end up felled by their own bullets, reflected back at them. 

 

The fence and gate peeled away from him as he floated in, strips of the razor wire following him, being used to tie down some of the few guards that looked like they were still standing. Some manner of armoured vehicle drove out, but as it attempted to fire a missile at him, Magneto simply held the rocket in place, reducing it to a smoking ruin. He grasped the burning hulk with his magnetic powers, pulled it back and sent it hurtling as quickly as he could through the second gate- the five-ton or more vehicle accelerating as fast as a bullet and utterly destroying the last obstacle before entering the base proper.

 

Inside were more men- they swarmed around him like ants, all believing that somehow they would be fortunate and that their bullet would penetrate, that they would be the hero who stopped Magneto.  _ Even without my shields, they’d require truly remarkable fortune to harm me.  _ The armour he wore would not only defeat the penetration of anything they had to offer, but it drastically reduced its concussive force as well. He’d had Raven shoot him with a high-powered sniper rifle to test its effects- the impact from that was uncomfortable, but did him absolutely no harm. 

 

A larger body of the armed men were crushed underneath a metallic sheet he’d peeled from the walls. It was unfortunate that men needed to die today, but at the same time, victory for an entire species was close at hand.  _ No war has ever been fought without casualties.  _ Few wars, of course, had ever been fought so one-sidedly. None of these humans had anything that could actually harm Magneto or even impede him greatly. The room was soon cleared and Magneto continued on his way, knowing that he was close to the central command room. 

 

The final door would require both a retinal scan and DNA lock to enter, but it had been constructed without Erik in mind. The systems of the door were first wiped out with a targeted electromagnetic pulse and then the door itself simply crumpled into itself with a hideous groaning noise and was flung aside. For the first time since he’d arrived, Magneto’s feet finally touched the ground as he walked into the room. Reaching into a small pouch on his belt, he withdrew an interfacing device and pressed it onto the controls. 

 

It would not take long before the base was open to him completely. The first system to fall was the remaining security, which gave a view of several monitors on the main screen. Magneto turned for a moment to grasp the door which had been flung aside, putting it back on its former frame and using his powers to fuse the metals together, effectively wielding the door. He closed his eyes for a moment and began using his abilities to effectively scan the layout of the base, using various metallic surfaces as a sort of radar. It was not long before he had a three-dimensional perspective of the facility. 

 

The remaining security forces trying to approach him would be successively defeated by elements of their environments randomly turning against them. Portions of the wall or of the floor would envelop them and hold them fast. Clouds of shrapnel from the carnage already wrought would fly into the few squads that had been coherently assembled. It was mere moments until every man in the base had been killed or incapacitated. Doubtless, more forces would arrive, but reinforcements would come slowly- and what would result but more carnage? 

 

It would take a few moments, most likely to get into the systems that controlled the actual nuclear missiles. In the meantime, it was an appropriate time to message the leaders of the world. The facility’s communications equipment was probably more or less functional, but he’d brought his own. It would take time to find frequencies capable of interfacing with all the world’s main leaders, but it only took him a few minutes to find the American President. The others could be contacted in due time. 

 

“Mr. President, doubtless you recognize my voice already. This is Magneto and I have full possession of Cape Citadel and very soon, complete access to its nuclear payload. The security forces in the facility have been completely neutralized. I will be able to detect and destroy any retaliatory measures you may be considering using. I suggest that you use the meantime to begin preparing to advocate on my behalf regarding my previous demands-” 

 

“Missile arming and targeting systems accessed. Full control achieved.” 

 

“- Ah. What excellent timing. Twenty-nine five megaton nuclear missiles are currently in my hands. You could, of course, persist in futile efforts to try and stop me, but I think we both know how that will turn out for you. I do not require the entire planet, for now. Just enough of it to give my people the sanctuary they need, free from your pathetic attempts to stop the future. 

 

I remember demanding a resolution within twenty-four hours earlier today. I have changed my mind. Eight hours. You have eight hours now, or I will begin selecting targets and launching missiles. Millions will die. And then I will simply find another nuclear facility and do it again. Their blood will be on your hands. 

 

It is never easy to swallow one’s pride, but if you want humanity to enjoy whatever small time it has left on the Earth, you will submit. I will not hesitate.” 

 

Magneto was curious to see if there would be a response from the President- he suspected the man would take some time to wrestle with the dogma that one should never negotiate with ‘terorrists’.  _ I am no simply terrorist. I am fighting for the liberation of an entire species.  _ Magneto pondered the possibility of a nuclear attack on a remote area a few hours from the deadline he had set, to show the President that he was being entirely serious about his plans. 

 

Absurdly, Magneto felt a faint rumble in his stomach and remembered that he had neglected to eat for the last several hours.  _ Perhaps I shall see what slop they call food in the galley in a moment. The systems are not yet completely secured.  _ Getting access into them was half the struggle- the rest was making sure that everyone else was locked out. It was more than a faint possibility that some secretive squad of hackers were trying to get into Cape Citadel right now, to eliminate him.  _ Let them try. They are only human, not a match either for me or my technology.  _

 

There was, however, an uneaten donut and what looked like an untouched cup of coffee in the control room. Magneto couldn’t help but chuckle to himself slightly as he walked over to where the impromptu breakfast lay out. He reached out to take the coffee, pleased to find that it was actually warm- not as hot as he would have liked, but warm enough to pretend. The donut looked like one of those cheap powdery abominations that Pietro loved, but it  _ was  _ food after a fashion and Magneto had learned long ago not to waste food. He had seen far too many people sicken and die of starvation to do that. 

 

_ Death. No doubt they belive that I am doing this to spread death and destruction.  _ On the contrary, Magneto believed that this was an act of mercy, a possibility to avoid a more catastrophic war for the time being. Humanity would receive its brief reprieve from the crushing power of evolution and mutantkind would be able to gather its strength. The numbers of mutants increased all the time, exponentially each generation. Magneto didn’t know precisely how long the longevity solution given to him by the Nazis would allow him to live, but seeing as he had aged the equivalent of twenty-five years in nearly seventy, it was probable that he would see at least the passage of another century in tolerable physical condition.

 

Hank had once explained to him his theory regarding the exponential growth of mutantkind- among the young people of the current generation, approximately one in a thousand people were mutants. There was evidence, however, that the incidence in the next generation would be a hundred times higher- one in ten.  _ My grandchildren, if I should be so fortunate.  _ His great-grandchildren would live in a world where mutants were the majority and soon after that, humanity would wither away, just as forgotten as the Neanderthals were today. A relic of evolution. 

 

_ Hopefully the new mutant world has better bakers.  _ Of course, Magneto doubted this donut that he was eating, which was annoyingly powdering sugar all over his costume, had anything to do with an actual bakery. Still, there was a time in his life where he would have been ravenously glad for far worse. He remembered having to choke down spoiled milk and mouldy bread in the ghetto and feeling somehow sinful for not being able to hold it down.  _ What an amazing privilege to be able to complain about a mediocre pastry.  _

 

Humanity had made a wreckage of the world- the new mutant world would have to be far more sensitive to the ecology of the planet and in many ways, it could afford to be. Mutant powers could substitute in many ways for the ruinous mass burning of fossil fuels, mutant ingenuity would create technology that would reduce the remainder of the gap. It was unfortunate that Charles could not understand the utter futility of his policy of compromise, of concession.  _ Humans do not understand ideals, not truly. They understand strength.  _

 

Magneto drank some of the coffee, a truly wretched brew which the technician who had been here had seen fit to ameliorate with a truly astounding amount of both cream and sugar. It tasted vaguely like one of the horrid concoctions his children got at Starbucks.  _ They grow coffee in Genosha. Perhaps I can have a decent cup of coffee there.  _ Nonetheless, it had as much caffeine as any other cup of coffee and it was some meagre measure of sustenance.

 

Magneto sat down before the monitors- everything was still now, if there were any guards or technicians left in the facility, they were probably trying to regroup, but he could not see any. He pondered idly what the President would be thinking. A missile strike would be a foolish disaster, a nuclear one even more catastrophic. Cape Citadel, relatively unusually among nuclear bases, was situated in a relatively populated portion of the country, within easy access of winds bearing radiation from the Washington DC metropolitan area and the rapidly expanding region of Northern Virginia. 

 

“There has been a landing of an aircraft within the Cape Citadel perimeter.” 

 

Magneto’s somewhat drifted concentration was immediately brought into focus by hearing that and he scanned the monitors and, indeed, he did see an aircraft there. It was an easy thing to reach out and destroy it, but then he saw  _ who  _ was coming out of it. Hank McCoy was the first one he recognized, the blue-furred man sticking out obviously in whatever crowd one could imagine. Soon afterwards, he identified Jean Grey. Warren, with his wings. Bobby.  _ I see they’ve sent their second-string- do they think they can defeat me with a motley band of children? _

 

It was conceivable, of course, with much more training and mastery over her abilities, that Jean Grey would be capable of rivalling his own power. Charles had always been somewhat reticent to share some of the information he’d received in his delvings into the girl’s mind with Magneto, but he remembered their training session clearly enough.  _ She has not had the time for that training or that mastery, however. If she believes she can best me, she is sadly mistaken.  _

 

There were others, a young Chinese girl who Magneto did not immediately recognize and a slightly older one whom he saw immediately.  _ Rogue.  _ He had been surprised when Raven’s girl had turned traitor- but the fact was that he was too close to his absolute victory to ruin things. Another two had gone another way, he hadn’t seen them immediately.  _ Whomever that is, they’re the real threat. The others come and make a distraction and they slip away.  _

 

One of the other monitors fizzled out, confirming to him that someone had means of disrupting circuitry.  _ Miss Pryde, perhaps, with her ability to phase through solid matter. I remember that it also had the effect of disrupting electronics.  _ He decided that he would go for them first. The control room was secure for the time being. The only way in or out was to use the door which he could manipulate at will. Anyone else would have an incredibly difficult time doing so. 

 

“Computer. Arm the missiles and assign targets.” If for some unfathomable reason, he was incapacitated, the missiles would launch and the dominion of humanity would totter and collapse. He knew, unfortunately, many mutants would perish as well as those humans who had not committed any outrages.  _ All the more reason for me to triumph. It should not be difficult. I should even be able to ensure that all of these misguided children survive. They could be valuable additions to a new world.  _

 

It did not take Magneto long to make it down the corridor to where the two others were. One of them was indeed Katherine Pryde, a girl that he remembered as being fierce and proud.  _ A shame that nobody bothered to channel all the anger she carries with her for any productive use.  _ The other woman with Pryde, however, made his eyes open wide in surprise and fury, in the realization that he had been tricked.  _ Tessa. Why is she here? If she is here, than neither her nor Shaw ever intended to honour the alliance struck with me.  _

 

“This is madness, Erik.” Tessa spoke with the quiet dignity that he had once adored about her. She levelled a gun at him and fired and this time, he couldn’t stop the bullets flying at him, but it made no difference as they pinged harmlessly off of his armour.  _ Plastic bullets. Clever girl. But not a wise one, I suppose.  _ He gestured with his hand and a portion of the wall tore itself out, Magneto intending to trap her within it at least, but as he had feared, Pryde phased them out of it. 

 

“All you’re going to do is get all of us killed. Mutants too.” Katherine released her grip for half a second, no doubt to allow Tessa to fire again. Magneto knew that Tessa was an excellent shot and there was far too real a chance that she could fire a bullet into the small gaps of his helmet, which would likely be fatal. He grasped the woman by the smallest traces of metal he could find, both on her person and inside her body and flung her against the nearest wall. 

 

The way that she slumped against the wall, with blood dribbling from her nose and mouth suggested serious internal injuries, ones that would likely prove fatal. Katherine looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide with shock, horror and rage and she dashed at him, for what purpose he didn’t know, perhaps to tear his living heart out with her abilities. He tried flinging metal at her, but it passed harmlessly through. Finally, just as he felt a strange icy feeling of her hand touching against him, he took off his helmet and flung it through her apparitional form. 

 

Magneto heard a shriek, one of sudden pain, as she fell to her knees on the ground, clearly solid now. He reached out towards her, a charge of electricity running through his hands, enough to knock her unconscious. He looked down at her for a moment. She was breathing.  _ A brave girl, but misguided. Thankfully, she will live.  _ She was, in the end, just a child. He had no desire to hurt children. It all left something of a bad taste in his mouth. But she would survive. 

 

Magneto could not assume the same about Tessa. He was no doctor and could only guess at the internal damage, but given the way that blood was dribbling from her nose and mouth, he doubted she would survive it. His momentary rage spent, he found himself staring at a young woman he had once had an affair with.  _ Perhaps, just perhaps, Henry can do something if I capture him in good enough condition.  _

“I’m sorry it came to this. Perhaps you were too clever for your own good. Sebastian will miss you.”  _ For as long as the conniving, treacherous man lives.  _ Which would not be long if Erik could help it. He took a breath. He’d have to go out and deal with the others soon. He left Kitty where she was.  _ Damn you, Charles. Damn you for making me do this. But the new world demands it. No great project was ever accomplished without sacrifice.  _

 

_ Why do these people follow you and your foolish idealism? Why are they willing to risk their lives on your behalf?  _

 

_ A reckoning for another time. I have a war to win right now.  _


	44. Bobby IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second-string X-Men engage in a desperate battle against Magneto. 
> 
> Can they defeat him? Will it ultimately even matter?

“... have you heard anything from Kitty?” Bobby asked, suddenly feeling a feeling of numb apprehension. Kitty and the woman she’d gone with, Tessa, had told them that they’d be in touch regularly and they hadn’t reported back.  _ Maybe they’re just busy.  _ He tried to convince himself of that, but it wasn’t working. The carnage around them wasn’t helping.  _ This guy used to be our teacher.  _ He stopped for a moment, staring, forgetting for a few seconds to breathe. 

 

There was a man on the ground just before him, a guy maybe in his early twenties, lying there, unmoving, pale,  _ lifeless _ . There was a sliver of jagged metal in his chest. Bobby tried to will himself to move, but he couldn’t.  _ Oh my god, he’s dead.  _ He felt his legs go weak and he had to steady himself as best he could before he fell down on the ground.  _ He’s dead. He probably had like, a girlfriend and a family and a life and now he’s dead. Erik killed him.  _

 

“Holy fuck.” Jubilee whispered beside him, turning her gaze away. “What are we doing here- seriously, what are we doing here?” Her voice was thin and panicked and pretty soon she clung tightly to Bobby, not because he was anything special, but because he was the nearest living human. Bobby had to admit, he was glad in that moment to be able to feel a living, breathing human being next to him. 

 

Bobby was astounded when Jean knelt down over the young man and gently closed his eyes, that she had the guts, the strength to be able to do that. “He’s not suffering anymore.” She murmured something that he couldn’t quite hear in its entirety, but he was pretty sure it was a prayer. It was kinda easy to forget in the everyday hubbub of life, that Jean was actually kind of religious. She went to church just about every Sunday with the Professor. She never talked about it too much, but she’d never disavowed it either. 

 

Jean stood back up. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t say it so much as she quite mouthed it. Her face then set into a determined mask. “This has to stop.  _ Now.”  _ Bobby turned around to see Hank nod and Rogue as well. “The sooner we stop this psychopath, the less chance there is that he can kill someone else’s child. And the sooner we can get the hell out of here.” Bobby could identify with that. He wanted to get the hell out of here too. 

 

“Are you okay?” Bobby regretted asking Jubilee that almost instantly, because how could she be okay? He wasn’t okay. Jean was made of pretty strong stuff and Rogue seemed to be cut from the same mold, but Bobby was pretty sure that they weren’t okay either, deep down. Hank and Warren were a little older, but the way that the colour had drained from Warren’s face suggested he wasn’t doing well either.  _ We’re kids, we don’t belong here.  _

 

“Yeah, I’ll deal.” Jubilee peeled herself away from him, keeping her eyes averted from the corpse on the ground. “Just a dead guy. People die all the fucking time.” Bobby didn’t really have anything to say in response to that. He got the vague impression that there was something deeply personal, beyond the obvious trauma of seeing a dead body. They started to move onwards, Rogue and Warren taking to the skies. 

 

Aside from the faint sound of Warren’s wings and whatever it was that allowed Rogue to soar through the air, there was almost complete silence in the air. It was oppressive, almost total. Bobby wanted desperately to be able to hear something from Kitty, just to know that she was okay. He had a sudden horrible thought of her being dead too. He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw her dead like that soldier that was still only about twenty feet away from them. 

 

The silence was broken by the exterior wall bursting before them. Jean threw up a shield instantly, shielding them from any of the possible shrapnel. Pieces of metal and stone clattered against the invisible barrier of Jean’s telekinetic shield, though the dense cloud of choking dust drifted through. For a few seconds, Bobby could see barely anything at all, even the people only a few feet away from him, let alone who had caused the wall to explode out before them. 

 

It took a moment for the dust to settle and the crimson and purple figure of Erik Lehnsherr- no,  _ Magneto,  _ to appear. He looked regal, terrifying, like some strange fusion of some ancient tyrant and a villain from Star Wars. Around him whirred several large pieces of metal and the air around Magneto crackled with electricity. He floated up into the air about twenty feet above them, looking down at them as if he were kind of god. 

 

“You cannot stop me. I have already found Tessa and Katherine. Katherine, thankfully, is largely uninjured.” The omission of referring to Tessa hung in the air as ominously as he did. Bobby didn’t know the woman, but he knew that Hank had. He’d talked about her once or twice and he’d always got the impression that Hank considered her the one that got away.  _ Kitty. The bastard hurt Kitty.  _

 

If Magneto had anything further to say, though, he wasn’t going to get a chance to say it, because immediately, two huge chunks of rock were being hurled at him, one with Jean by her telekinesis and the other by Hank. Two of the lumps of metal that Magneto carried with him slammed into the chunks of rock, deflecting them away from him, one of them hurtling towards Hank, who jumped out of the way. 

 

“Surrender!” Magneto called out, gathering up more and more hunks of metal and sending them hurtling towards Warren and Rogue in the air and then towards Bobby and Jubilee. Bobby managed to get out of the way, as did Jubilee, who was apparently pretty damn good at jumping, because she managed to land on her feet, while Bobby landed pretty hard on his side. He was suddenly glad for the ice armour that covered him when his abilities were active. 

 

“I don’t want to hurt any of you. I never wanted that. But I will if I must. The triumph of mutantkind cannot be stopped, least of all by you-” His triumphalist crowing was interrupted by a torrent of blindingly bright fireworks that poured out of Jubilee’s hands. Magneto let out a surprised cry, covering his eyes. The metallic discs hovering around him flattened into a solid field for a moment.  _ So we know something affects him. That’s good.  _

 

The solid shell of metal then exploded into a lethal cloud of shrapnel that would have surely killed every single one of them, had Jean not quickly thrown up another shield to protect them. Bobby quickly moved to throw up the thickest walls of ice he could, anything to give them a moment to come up with some kind of plan. Part of him didn’t even care about the plan, just wanted to go and find Kitty and make sure she was  _ actually  _ okay. He didn’t believe Magneto. Maybe once upon a time, he’d trusted Dr. Lehnsherr, but it was clear the man wanted nothing to do with that name anymore. 

 

_ Jubilee, keep on him. Tessa was right. His eyes are as sensitive as anyone else’s, for all of his amazing superpowers. Rogue, get the drop on him. Hard and fast as you can. Bobby, make it hard for him. More ice than you’ve ever made in a lifetime so far. He’s on the ground right now, make him slip off it. Hank, keep throwing things at him. The biggest you can. Keep him off-center. If he can get his bearings, he’ll wipe the floor with us.  _

 

It was insane, really, the fact that they had to strategize the best way of trying to beat the man who had been their teacher, their co-headmaster. Hell, Jean’s best friend was Wanda, the man’s  _ daughter. I hope they’re all okay in Latveria. What the hell kind of situation have we all actually got ourselves into. I’m fifteen. Fifteen-year olds aren’t supposed to save the world. Even teenage superheroes usually just fight stilly badguys with the power of sarcastic one-liners.  _

 

The ice walls burst under Magneto’s onslaught, but he was immediately greeted with a viciously bright burst from Jubilee and a hunk of rock hurled by Hank. Warren was doing his best to keep Magneto occupied as well, but there was only so much the guy could do.  _ Warren never did win the mutant blue medal.  _ Jean was mostly occupied with keeping people alive and unhurt with shields, though Bobby caught her looking significantly at his helmet. 

 

Bobby moved around as quickly as he could to reform the fallen ice walls, to get some of the pressure off of Jean. He could vaguely hear Rogue. She was trying to get height, as much height as she could, to drop down at Magneto. Bobby remembered her complaining half the trip over there that she could fly faster than the airplane. Tessa, who apparently had the mutant power of knowing  _ exactly  _ what mutants could do, hadn’t disagreed with it. 

 

The descent was astoundingly fast, the sonic boom reverberating through the air as she plummeted down at Magneto like some human comet. The  _ thud  _ as she was batted out of the air by an airborne piece of metal was barely audible by comparison, with Rogue hurtling towards the ground, kicking up a dust cloud as she hit the ground hard. Hank threw another huge piece of rubble at Magneto, which he batted away easily. Another burst of fireworks from Jubilee made it hard for him to focus and amazingly, one of Warren’s far smaller projectiles managed to hit him, knocking him to the ground. 

 

Magneto got up quickly, though and this time, the air sizzled and burned with huge bolts of electricity, as if he had forgotten somehow that he was supposed to have only magnetic powers and decided to pretend he was Raiden from Mortal Kombat or something. The arcs of electricity could not be blocked by a shield the same way a physical projectile could and everyone just had to hit the dirt. The electrical bolts ended quickly, though and he went back to hurling giant chunks of metal at them. 

 

_ So far the only one of us that has had any impact whatsoever is Jubilee. He can handle the rest of us easily, but those fireworks hurt just as much right in your eyes for him as it would for any of us.  _ This time, though, Magneto managed to catch Jean unawares and a small piece of metal hit Jubilee and she fell to the ground, stunned at best, probably unconscious. Without the regular near-blindings from her fireworks, it was getting harder and harder for them to hold him off center. 

 

Bobby wished that Scott were there, because his powerful optic blasts might even be able to punch through Magneto’s shields, or at least distract him. He wished that Wanda were there, because when pure chaos entered into the equation, everything was possible. Kurt made a fine distraction with his agility and teleporting. Ororo had awesome weather powers that could surely be a problem for Magneto. Logan and Piotr, well, Bobby thought they’d probably be a problem because one turned into metal and the other one had metal bones. 

 

_ What the hell am I doing? All I’m doing is making ice walls and things. Come on, Bobby, think. Don’t be a useless loser.  _ He just wanted to go home, wanted to go back and play video games and make out and just hang out with Kitty. Or maybe he’d go fail at basketball with Scott and Kurt, or pretend that Piotr wasn’t super attractive when he was working out in the gym.  _ Where did that last thought come out of? Ugh, come on, Drake.  _

 

Bobby was used to being the class clown, the guy who could be counted on for a silly joke or when you didn’t need to take things seriously. He hadn’t really ever been the person that you counted on when things were really critical. Even now, with most of the obvious leader types gone, Jean and Hank were the ones in charge.  _ What am I thinking? I can’t do this. There’s no weird amazing potential in me. I’m just a silly kid who makes ice.  _

 

_ What a spectacularly reductionist approach to your mutant abilities.  _

 

_ Tessa?  _ Bobby wondered if she had managed to get away somehow, if maybe her and Kitty were totally disarming the nukes like a boss while they were keeping Magneto busy.  _ Is Kitty okay? Where are you two?  _ He had about eight million questions and maybe there were actual answers at hand about them. It also suggested that maybe they weren’t pointlessly fighting after all. 

 

_ Yes, quite well considering and doing her best to hack into the system. You have good taste in women, Mr. Drake. Remember that you’re in a combat zone, though.  _

 

The reminder came just in time for Bobby to make a large ice wall, one that completely obscured Magneto, but of course, he simply decided to take to the skies himself, making it significantly harder for anyone to target him successfully, at least for Hank. The hunks of metal were now not flying laterally but coming on top of them, which made shielding a lot more difficult.  _ You’re supposed to be like the smartest person ever, if you have any brilliant ideas or suggestions, now would be good.  _

 

_ Firstly, you need to stop holding back.  _

 

_ I’m not holding back. I’ve never made this much ice in my lifetime.  _

 

_ You hold yourself back every day in just about everything you do. You’re afraid to commit to anything because you’re afraid of failing. You’re afraid of ruining the convenient image you’ve made for yourself as a clown. You’re afraid that people might actually start expecting things from you.  _

 

Bobby didn’t quite know what to say to that- he wanted to deny it, pretty angrily, but something in there stuck pretty hard. She was a telepath, she probably knew exactly what he was thinking, denying wouldn’t help. Maybe he did do that sometimes, but what good could it do right now, he couldn’t make a bit of difference to help this particular fight. 

_ Bobby. All your conceptions, your fears, your mental baggage.  _

 

Tessa wasn’t. She was not going there. Bobby refused that she was actually going there. 

 

_ Let it go, Bobby.  _

 

_ You didn’t.  _

 

_ I did. Now it’s your turn.  _

 

Well, there was nothing that Bobby could do except do his best, try to think the coldest thoughts he could. He took a breath and this time, the exhalation came out as frozen vapor. He could feel a coldness in his body, but it wasn’t bad. It was  _ welcome.  _ Bobby tried to focus on that feeling, to make it more.  _ More. I gotta try this. All my friends need me.  _ Bobby Drake grasped that icy feeling inside him as much as he could, held onto it for dear life, like it was everything that he had ever been and ever would be. 

 

And then he- he didn’t exactly let it go. That was a far too gentle way to describe the explosion of cold that he felt pour out from him, a giant wave which flashfroze everything in its path, encasing Magneto’s shield in a thick wall of ice, which a piece of rubble thrown by Hank promptly shattered, causing Magneto to lose control of himself for a moment and plummet to the ground, visibly shocked. It was then that Bobby saw Rogue hurtling towards Magneto again, like  _ she  _ was Raiden from Mortal Kombat and for an instant, Bobby thought that maybe it was all over. 

 

Then there was crackling in the air again and Rogue was suspended on a shield, twitching as Bobby could only imagine how much electricity was being pumped into her. It took only a few seconds for Magneto to voluntarily drop the shield. It would have been a perfect chance to attack him and indeed, Jean took the chance to seize him and slam him up against the wall. Whatever his armour was seemed to do pretty well at absorbing the shock.

 

Hank scrambled over towards Rogue to check her out and Bobby knew pretty much immediately that it wasn’t good. The fact that she wasn’t moving was a good sign that it was bad- Rogue was insanely tough from what Bobby knew. When Magneto had knocked her out of the sky before, she’d got up again in pretty short order. This time, she wasn’t getting up at all. 

 

“You bastard. Look what you’ve  _ done.  _ You had best pray that she’s alright.” Jean hissed at Magneto. Bobby took a moment to scramble over to Jubilee, who was stirring and getting up onto her feet uncertainly. Bobby looked back over at Hank, who was slipping on gloves. His stomach sank.  _ He’s getting ready to do CPR. Her heart’s not beating.  _ He didn’t even know if Hank was strong enough to compress her chest enough to have a chance. 

 

Magneto knew it too and behind the intimidating helmet, he could see eyes open wide. “I … I can help her-” 

 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t put you out of the world’s misery, you evil psychopath.” Magneto wasn’t resisting, even now.  _ We’ve won. Did we actually win?  _ It felt weird and hollow, though. He didn’t know Rogue very well, but she seemed like a pretty good person. Someone brave enough to turn their back on their friends and family to do what she thought was right. Bobby didn’t know if he was that brave, that sure of what he was doing. 

 

“- I wouldn’t stop you. But I can defibrillate her. Let me  _ try.  _ There has been enough blood today.” Magneto seemed shaken to the core. “Please, Jean. Kill me afterwards if you must.” 

 

Jean turned towards Hank. “Hank, what’s the situation with Rogue?” 

 

“I’m not getting good enough chest compressions on her, Jean. And CPR, realistically, can only prolong the period of time until irreversible tissue damage sets in.” Hank looked up, obviously trying to keep himself together. “If he can defibrillate her, we may be able to restart her heartbeat.” 

 

Jean’s eyes opened wide then and she glared back at Erik. “What have you  _ done? _ ” Her face was totally devoid of colour. She flung him roughly towards where Rogue and Hank were. There was a truly strange look in her eyes in that moment. Bobby had absolutely no idea what it was. 

 

“You can’t possibly be thinking-” Hank’s own eyes went completely wide, even as Erik managed to crawl over to where Rogue was, where Hank had been prepping her. It was an uncomfortably, skin-crawlingly tender moment to see the man whom they had so recently been fighting a life-and-death battle with gently place his hands upon her. The convulsive shock from the electrical jolt was far less so. 

 

“The launching mechanisms have been disabled, but the missiles are still armed and ready to go. Soon.”

 

_ Oh god. No.  _

 

“... that’s impossible.” Erik more muttered than anything as he prepared to shock Rogue again. “I gave the President eight hours.” He took off his helmet, tossing it aside and looked over at Jean. “If what you’re saying is true-” 

 

“You keep working on her until you fucking  _ die,  _ you revolting piece of shit. This is the apocalypse you wanted so badly. Here it is, Magneto. Your grand goddamn war. You stay right where you fucking are. That girl is not going to die tonight. Get your hands back on her.  _ Now. _ ” Bobby flinched visibly at Jean’s tone. He had never heard her sound like that before in his entire life. It was frankly terrifying and he hoped he never heard that tone again. 

 

Warren set down, looking uncertain. “Well …” He took a deep breath. “We made a pretty good go of it for a group of amateurs.” 

 

_ Oh god, we’re all going to die.  _

 

_ Kitty loves you. She wanted me to tell you that.  _ Tessa’s vaguely fatalistic telepathic voice floated in, but it sounded weirdly faint now.  _ She loves you and she’s sorry.  _

 

_ You’re not going to die.  _ It was Jean’s voice now, but it seemed like not  _ just  _ Jean, if that made any sense at all.  _ You’re not going to die, Bobby. Nobody else is going to die today.  _ And then Jean Grey floated off of the ground and descended into the depths of Cape Citadel and Bobby realized at last, that she was going to try and stop the explosion somehow. 

 

_ Ice, Bobby. I need all the ice in the world. More ice than you ever thought could exist in a place. I need a shell.  _

 

_ Jean, I don’t think that I can-  _

 

_ Bobby, you’re like a brother to me. What Tessa told you is right. You are so much more powerful than you know. You can do it.  _

 

_ But what about you?  _

 

_ I’m going to do what I can. Either I’m fine or you all will need to leave fast.  _

 

Bobby nodded, even though she was gone and couldn’t see him and he started creating more ice than he ever thought could exist in one place. Everything that he ever thought he had up his sleeve, inside his heart, whatever turn of language one wanted to use for it, Bobby let it all go, let it all pour out. And when he didn’t think there was any more ice left in reality, he just made more and more of it. As the shell was starting to be built, he saw a pale-faced Kitty come out of the building, awkwardly carrying a Tessa who looked in extremely bad shape.

 

“I’m sorry-” She was sobbing. Bobby wanted to run to her and hold her tight, but he knew that he needed to make ice. So he made ice and let his heart break quietly on her behalf. And Rogue’s behalf. And Tessa’s. And, he feared, Jean’s too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	45. Kitty VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only a seemingly dying Tessa for assistance, Kitty has to somehow disarm twenty-nine powerful nuclear devices. 
> 
> Will she be able to do so in time?

_ Uhn. My head.  _

 

Kitty Pryde came to consciousness in the middle of a cold corridor. She reached up and brushed the side of her head and was surprised to feel that it was wet. She moved her hand in front of her eyes and realized that it was blood, quite a bit of it. Kitty’s hands went back to her head. It seemed more or less intact and the slight blurriness in her vision was resolving itself pretty quickly.  _ I might need stitches for that, but I think I’m more or less okay. For now.  _

 

Kitty got up unevenly to her feet, finding it more difficult than she would have anticipated. She took a few breaths and then looked down the hallway at where Lehnsherr was gone.  _ Magneto. He wants to call himself Magneto. The hell with that. I don’t do what he wants. He’s Erik Lehnsherr.  _ What he also was, Kitty realized, was probably long gone, off to deal with the rest of her friends.  _ I should go and help them. They could use whatever help they could get.  _

 

It was only then that she remembered Tessa and instantly ran over to where the young woman lay, almost still on the ground, blood dribbling out of her nose and mouth slowly, her breathing obviously laboured. Kitty knelt down on the ground next to her, trying to check her out, but Kitty was no doctor and could only determine that she was in extremely bad shape. Kitty wondered about how to get her out, but all she knew about trying to move severely injured people was that one shouldn’t. 

 

_ If it’s any relief, it doesn’t hurt so much. I shut down all my pain receptors.  _

 

“That’s … that’s good.” Kitty answered uncertainly. “Do you have any head or spinal injuries? I mean, do you know that? Since you seem to be kind of conscious.” That’s when Kitty noticed the wet patch underneath Tessa and she started realizing just how badly the woman was hurt. Listening closely and it was easy in the near dead-silence, she could hear each breath rattle around slightly.  _ God. That’s not good at all. That’s really, really not good. _

 

_ A concussion which is the least of my worries. That would be the broken ribs sticking into my lung. Or the internal bleeding resulting from that. Though some of it is probably external right now. I suppose this is where I would sugarcoat it and say that I’m all right. But I’m afraid I’m not much of a sugarcoater. I’m going to die in fairly short order if I do not receive advanced medical attention.  _

 

“Then we need to get you out of here.” Kitty looked down the corridor. “Maybe I can find something to put you on and I could phase us out of here. Maybe Hank will be able to do something until we can get you to a hospital. We have a surgeon. I mean, at the school. Piotr’s Mom is a surgeon. Trauma. She’s a trauma surgeon. This is her thing. Her jam. You’re not going to die. So stop talking about how you’re going to die.” 

 

_ I’m not one for self-pity. Don’t worry. You’ll have to imagine my smile. I’ve shut those down too. The more I shut down, the longer I have.  _

 

“If that’s true, then … stop talking to me. Save your strength.” Kitty didn’t know why she’d start talking to her. The fact was that the whole plan had counted on Tessa being able to interface with the computers somehow. Apparently she’d received some pretty amazing technology from her boyfriend, who was actually a pretty horrible person. Sebastian Shaw. Sold weapons all around the world, probably responsible for millions of deaths. 

 

Also, the guy was  _ super  _ too old for Tessa, who was squarely within a “big sister” range as opposed to, say, a mom. Kitty didn’t know how old Tessa actually was, of course, but it couldn’t have been more than a hand’s count over twenty. The thought that she could even possibly die made Kitty angry, that Lehnsherr would do that so casually. 

 

_ That is not an option. I need you to stop worrying about me and start worrying about how we’re going to stop Magneto’s evil plan. Charming as your moral indignation is, I need that brain of yours focused entirely. Maybe, just maybe, you’re smart enough to be able to handle some of this.  _

 

“Okay.” Kitty nodded. She wasn’t going to object, a possibly dying woman was making a request of her, she was going to move heaven and earth to deal with it. If Tessa had a way for her to accomplish the mission, she’d listen. She’d do whatever it took.  _ Millions of people could die if we fail. I’m not going to let them down. I won’t. If there’s any way we can do this, Tessa, let’s do this. What do you need me to do?  _

 

_ Take off my glasses. The interfacing technology is inside the glasses. Or did you just think that they were a fashion statement?  _

 

“I’m not gonna lie, the glasses looked pretty badass.” Kitty reached over gingerly and peeled the glasses off. She couldn’t help but shudder slightly when she saw Tessa’s eyes, unfocused and glazed-over almost entirely, staring out at nothing. She grasped the glasses delicately and slipped them on. “Okay, now I’m a glasses-wearing badass too.” The light dialogue helped distract her from the fact that, with the exception of the very slow breathing, Tessa already looked pretty much dead. Or maybe in some deep coma, like Snow White. 

 

_ My father always called me his little princess. I got called Snow White at school.  _

 

“Well, to be fair, you’re  _ super  _ white.” Kitty replied, trying her best to manage a smile, although she had a feeling that Tessa couldn’t actually see it. Kitty could only hope that sometime later, they actually had a chance to get to know each other a bit, because she thought that, honestly, Tessa was pretty cool. She certainly had acquired a pretty intimidating and impressive list of skills. Kitty wasn’t sure if she really supported her life choices- she’d probably have gone full Black Widow with a similar skillset rather than ending up the personal assistant to an arms manufacturer, but it wasn’t her call to make. 

 

_ I know. So white that advanced shock barely shows up. But sadly, we don’t have time for pleasant banter. I need you to find the control hub. I’m downloading the schematics into your brain. It may feel a little strange.  _

 

“You can download stuff right into my brain?” Kitty asked. That sounded like an amazingly convenient ability. She wondered if it was just Tessa or if other telepaths could do that. Kitty personally really  _ liked  _ school, but it would be a pretty awesome way of getting unwanted courses out of the way. Or learning languages. Kitty thought that was, in many ways, a lot more impressive than being able to go through walls. 

 

And then the information hit her brain and she knew  _ exactly  _ where she needed to go and what to do with the interface device. Kitty realized that her phasing ability would be needed, because Lehnsherr had fused the door shut and it couldn’t be opened through regular means. She also had detailed information about the original target disposition of the missiles as well as their strength. If the missiles fired, tens of millions of people would probably end up dying. 

 

_ I’m going to oblige you to think to me rather than speak to me. I’m going to be shutting down my hearing shortly.  _

 

_ I’m not leaving you- I can’t leave you, what if someone finds you?  _ Kitty wasn’t really into the idea of writing off Tessa as dead, she wasn’t going to give up on her by a long shot, but she knew that she was beyond helpless if someone encountered her. Kitty started casting about for some way of helping Tessa to move out. There had to be something she could use even as a stretcher. She reached out impulsively to squeeze Tessa’s hand, and was shocked at how cold it was. 

 

_ Under better circumstances, I would be quite happy to take the selfish option. As it is, however, I don’t think it would benefit me any to be moved. And maybe, just maybe, you can save the world.  _

 

_ That’s crazy. I’m just a kid, I’m only-  _ It was insane. Kitty was a high school student only a few months ago. Her training had consisted of only a few sessions in the Danger Room and a singular combat encounter. She’d got lucky then. Kitty was smart enough to know that. She should, by rights, have been creamed by the Juggernaut, even if he was a gigantic idiot.  _ I just want to go home- _

 

_ I’m a telepath. Don’t lie to me. You’ve wanted to be a hero since you’ve discovered your powers. You’ve always wanted to be out there, fighting for what was right. Ever since you used to go around beating up bullies twice your size on the playground. The thing about being a hero is that being a hero is fucking hard. That’s why I never wanted to be one. Now, go and be a damn hero while I still have the ability to consciously think at you.  _

 

“Okay.”  _ Okay.  _ Kitty resolved then that the self-pity party had officially been busted. She still didn’t like leaving Tessa but she was going to trust the other woman’s judgement. The stakes were a million times too high for Kitty to be anything but the biggest goddamn hero she could manage to be. She didn’t walk down the corridor, she took off running, phasing through through the walls when they would have slowed her down. It wasn’t long before she reached the door. 

 

The carnage there was unbelievable, it felt like she’d been transported back to some horrific war situation. There was a low groaning that came, generalized from the room and from the area behind, of wounded- maybe  _ dying  _ men and at least a few women. Some of the guards and scientists were clearly dead, crushed underneath impossibly heavy hunks of the walls or floors. There was a truly awful stink in the air and Kitty was glad that she had to hold her breath in order to phase through the wall. 

 

Kitty wanted to try and help some of the wounded- in the movies, the heroes always did that, or better yet, nobody got really awfully hurt unless it was some sort of climactic thing where the mentors passed away. Mentor figures always died in the movies, books and shows that Kitty liked. Bruce Wayne’s parents. Obi Wan Kenobi. Harry Potter’s parents. 

 

_ Focus, Kitty. Okay, Tessa, I’m in.  _ Kitty slipped through the fused metal of what had probably once been a very expensive secured door. The room within looked practically cavernous, full of huge monitors showing video of most of the facility, along with, on the left side, the array showing the dispositions of the nukes themselves as well as their currently programmed targets.  _ New York. Washington. Moscow, London, Paris, Beijing, Tokyo.  _ The number of people that would be killed if they fired boggled the imagination. There were twenty-nine of them in total. 

 

_ Good. There is probably some manner of strange device on the controls. Phase through it.  _

 

Kitty noticed the device immediately and swiped through it with a phased hand, causing it to fizzle and stop working.  _ Well, that part was pretty easy. Was that what Lehnsherr was using to take over the programming?  _

 

_ Excellent deduction, Watson. Now, I need you to turn on the interfacer. There’s a small button on the side of the temple.  _ Kitty reached up and indeed, there was a tiny button, almost invisible. She flicked it on and suddenly, a profusion of ones and zeroes filled her mind, blotting out almost everything else. It was overwhelming, but Kitty tried her best to fight through it until what she’d acquired from Tessa slowly came back to the forefront and she was slowly able to start making sense of it. 

 

It was weirdly beautiful, actually, to be able to actually see data points floating about her. It reminded her a little bit of virtual reality stuff she’d seen, but the consequences of this were so much more real. The information wasn’t abstract, it was the launch codes and dispositions of twenty nine nuclear weapons. Kitty took a deep breath, trying to maintain calm as best she could. 

 

_ What do I do now?  _

 

_ I need you to disable the launch sequence. First, we eliminate the threat to tens of millions of people. Then we disarm the missiles.  _

 

_ I don’t know, Tessa. That seems pretty selfless from someone who is so frequently calling themselves selfish.  _ Kitty started to try and sift through the data to find out what she was looking for. Impressively, the interfacer seemed to respond neatly to her will and she started disabling the targeting of each missile, one at a time. First, was a nuclear missile destined for Berlin. The second missile was targeting Beijing. The third, she realized with horror, was aimed at Chicago, her home town.  _ Daddy.  _

 

Kitty wanted to talk to him so badly, to tell him that she loved him. She suddenly felt a horrible lurch in her stomach for having avoided him over the last few days. As horrifying as the abstract notion of millions of people being killed in a nuclear apocalypse was, it had become so much more real to Kitty now. 

 

_ Your father is going to live because of what you did just now. Keep working. You’re doing very well, Kitty.  _

 

_ Okay.  _ Kitty refocused herself, worked as hard as she could to eliminate all the rest of the targeting. As she was working, her eye caught the monitor and she saw her friends fighting Magneto. It didn’t look like it was going well. She saw Jubilee fall to the ground.  _ I can’t get distracted. They’re fighting so that I can have a chance. I won’t let them down.  _ Several more targets became disabled. Millions more fathers and mothers, children, brothers and sisters would live. 

 

It was perhaps a minute or two longer for the targeting sequences to all be disabled. The missiles were still armed, but they remained in their silos. People in Chicago and London and Beijing and even in New York would not have to wake up to a nuclear sunrise. It was time now to focus on disarming the weapons so that they themselves would be safe, so that Kitty and her friends could get out. So that Tessa might have a chance at getting the care she desperately needed. 

 

Kitty knew, of course, that it wasn’t just about them. There were still twenty-nine nuclear weapons in the facility, all of them currently armed and ready to explode. Cape Citadel was relatively close to the highly populated DC metropolitan area. If those nuclear weapons went off, tens of millions would not die, but a few million likely would, including everyone in Washington DC. She imagined the President and his closest staff had found some manner of safe place, but countless officials wouldn’t. 

 

_ Okay, Phase One went off really well, let’s make sure that Phase Two goes down even faster.  _

 

Kitty started focusing her efforts again to disarm the devices. Suddenly, however, everything became scrambled and resolved itself into something. 

 

_ Mes excuses, Katherine. _

 

_ Tessa? Tessa, it’s not working anymore. It’s just. Someone is saying excuse me in French.  _

 

_ Well, that is a disturbing development. Try resetting. Press the button again.  _

 

Kitty reached up to do just that, but there was no effect whatsoever.  _ Don’t panic.  _ There had to be some kind of workaround, there had to be some way to do something about this.  _ Why would someone speak in French? That makes no sense whatsoever.  _

 

_ Erik tente de protéger ses espèces. Je le mien protéger. Je vous rends pas de haine. J'espère que vous ne souffrez pas. _

 

_ Toutes mes excuses, _

_ Bastion _

Red alerts began sounding throughout the facility. 

 

“Nuclear missiles armed and ready to launch.” 

 

_ Oh God. No.  _ Kitty sank to her knees.  _ I wasn’t fast enough.  _

 

_ It appears we’ve been sabotaged. For what it’s worth, you did very well.  _ Tessa sounded more or less resigned to the notion that she would die. 

 

_ Kitty.  _ She heard Jean’s voice in her head. 

 

_ I’m sorry, Jean. I’m sorry. I tried.  _

 

_ I need you to take Tessa and get out. Now. Can you do that?  _

 

_ I don’t know if she’ll survive being moved.  _

 

_ My odds are probably worse than a coin toss. But it may be the only option.  _

 

_ What does it matter? They’re nuclear missiles, Jean.  _

 

_ I know.  _

 

_ What are you going to do?  _ Fear froze Kitty’s veins. There was no way that Jean could do anything about them, powerful as she was … 

 

_ The impossible. I’m going to do the impossible.  _

  
  



	46. Jean IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has set herself out an impossible task. To somehow stop the heat, force and radiation of twenty-nine powerful nuclear weapons. 
> 
> On the line are the lives of many of her friends and probably at least a few million people in the surrounding area. 
> 
> She cannot fail, but how can she possibly succeed?

Jean Grey was about to attempt the utterly impossible. 

 

Jean knew that there was little or no chance of her succeeding, but she had to believe that she had a chance, to at least let her friends come out of it alive, to save the lives of all the countless thousands that would die if the nuclear missiles inside the facility exploded. She knew that she didn’t have much time to get to the silo. She ran as quickly as she could. 

 

“... Miss, please, I need help …” She turned for a moment to see a young woman, leaning heavily against the wall, blood soaking through most of her uniform. “Help me get out of here. Please. I don’t think I can get very far by myself …” Jean knew of course, that it would be futile. If the nuclear missiles went off, the killzone would be miles wide, not meters wide. 

 

“Nuclear missiles launching in three minutes.” The intercom kindly chirped out, as if reminding someone that bridge was beginning in the lounge in an hour. 

 

“I might be able to stop them.” Jean replied. “If I can … I promise, I will come back and help you, okay?” She was relieved when the soldier nodded heavily.  _ Your new orders are to live, soldier. You hear me?  _ It felt strange to be playing the sargeant when she was, usually, something a peacenik who had no special love of the armed forces, but she hoped that the soldier would respond to that. 

 

“Understood.” The soldier nodded. “I’m not dying.” She paused. “God bless you.” 

 

Jean took a breath. “I’m going to need it. Any prayer you can give me is … needed.” They were going to need a miracle to stop the nuclear missiles from going off. Unable to spend anymore time talking, Jean ran quickly down the hall again, until she reached the heavy doors where the silos lay, where the actual nuclear missiles were positioned. Opening them would be a mistake. Jean didn’t necessarily need to be in the room anyway. 

 

Jean sat down on the ground, because she needed to be as comfortable as she could and needed not to have to worry about falling over because the effort was too much. She took a deep breath and tried to dispel all thoughts that she couldn’t actually pull this off.  _ I need to believe in myself. I need to reach in deeper than I have ever done before and find every bit of power that I can.  _

 

It wouldn’t simply be a matter of brute power either, but of complete precision, because she’d have to block out radiation as well as the heat and light from the explosion. The facility itself was well-protected, with plenty of thick walls, but of necessity, she was positioned somewhere without very much of that protection. She needed to try and filter out as much radiation as she could, because otherwise, it would leak and she would certainly die a ghastly, terrible death and quite likely, so would everyone else. 

 

Jean inhaled again, trying to focus on the breath, to clear out any other thoughts.  _ Inhale, exhale. Just breathe.  _

 

“Two minutes until nuclear detonation.” 

 

_ Thanks. That really helps my karmic focus.  _ Jean continued, however, to focus on her breathing, until everything felt distant. Once she had cleared her mind of any distractions, Jean opened her eyes again and concentrated on building the most powerful shield she could, around the vast area where the missiles were held, around each individual silo. All twenty-nine of them. One silo was covered. Two silos were covered. Three, four, until she had some sort of shielding on all of them. 

 

Jean could feel the strain in her head, a pounding headache creeping up, poking red-hot needles into her eyes and her temples. She ignored it as best she could and pushed through the pain, strengthening the shields, bit by bit. The silos could be counted on to absorb some of the blast force, but she knew that they would not be remotely enough to deal with a nuclear detonation. She would have to hope her own shields would make up the difference. 

 

The pain spiked and Jean reflexively screwed up her face, putting her hand to her temples as Charles had taught her to do. It did nothing physically, but it seemed to somehow psychologically balance a psychic, allowing them to push farther or accomplish tasks more easily. Many kinds of mutants used little physical tricks like that- Magneto had certainly used dramatic arm gestures to fling large pieces of metal at her and her friends. 

 

Jean took another deep breath and worked on strengthening the fields. Since it was the only thing she needed to do, that at least, was a little easier than on a dynamic battlefield. She hated to leave the battlefield, hated to leave her friends with a vile worm like Lehnsherr, but she had no choice. They would all live or all die based on whether she could somehow manage to pull off a miracle here. She knew the fields she was building were very powerful indeed, but the stresses they would be subject to were beyond imagining. 

 

Jean’s parents had been children of the Cold War. She remembered vividly their stories of nuclear fear in the Eighties, in the bad old days when the United States had escalated the Cold War in what seemed to be a gambit to bankrupt the old Soviet Union, which itself tottered from dying leader to dying leader. It must have seemed like such a deliverance in the early Nineties when the Wall came down, the Soviet Union collapsed and the ever-present terror of Armageddon was greatly lessened. 

 

Jean wondered how they were doing. They lived in a very safe small town and the college at least had backup generators, so it was entirely possible that Mom was simply staying there for the time being. The hospital probably had some too- and no doubt her father was busy working there. Her father’s practice was continually busy and the blackout wouldn’t stop people from seeking him out. She hoped they didn’t have any idea where she was. 

 

They were safe, though, and that was what mattered. They were alive and would remain that way. Kitty had disabled the targeting of the nuclear weapons and because of her and Tessa’s efforts, millions of people who had been doomed to death would now live. There was not the time to wonder or find out who had sabotaged their efforts. It was up to Jean Grey to ensure that they survived, and when they did, she would be the first to spearhead that hunt. 

 

Jean wondered how Scott was doing, how the mission to Latveria had done, if they had found Kurt and Wanda and brought them home safe. She had all the faith in the world that Scott and the others would find a way to do just that. She wished, selfishly, that he could be by her side, but he was far safer where he was, even if that was the hostile kingdom of Latveria. Wanda would be safer too. She loved them both.  _ Watch over them, God. And me too.  _

 

It was pleasant to think about her friends, her loved ones and how blessed she was to have had the pleasure of knowing them, even though some of them had been only recent acquaintances. But the pain was only getting worse now and it was becoming harder to ignore it as it spiked worse and worse.  _ Those needles going into my skull are getting larger and larger, and hotter and hotter. At this point, I’d need morphine not to feel it.  _

 

Jean felt moisture on her upper lip and knew immediately that it was blood, that the strain was starting to not only cause pain, but actual physical stress.  _ I can’t let up. I can’t stop. Those shields have to be as strong as I can possibly make them. Stronger. They have to be stronger than I can possibly imagine.  _ The pain was becoming worse and worse now, but she kept holding on, kept pushing herself harder and harder. 

 

Jean heard a horrid, primal screech and at first she thought that Magneto was coming and that perhaps the soldier she’d run into earlier had been killed. The screaming didn’t stop and she realized that it was coming from her only when she felt the rawness in her throat. The slow dripping had become a steady dribble now, over her lips and down her chin. She could taste the coppery tang of her blood in her mouth. The screaming was a banshee squall now. 

 

“Nuclear missiles launching in one minute.” The calm voice of the intercom cut far worse than any knife ever could, even worse than the pain in her head. 

 

_ I can’t give up. Can’t give up. Give up. No. I have to make them stronger.  _ Jean clamped her mouth shut as hard as she could, her throat burning from her own screams, blood flowing liberally now. The pain built and built more and more thought, and she started screaming again, at first, a torrent of obscenities, but then nothing coherent at all. Her mind seemed, now, to exist outside her body, observing herself tear herself apart, in the full knowledge that it very likely would not be enough. 

 

_ I have to, I have to.  _

 

_ I can’t.  _

 

_ God help me, I can’t. I have to, but I can’t.  _

 

**_You can._ **

 

_ … God?  _ The voice thundered in her mind with an almost unimaginable force, but it wasn’t the sort of warm, fatherly voice she’d always associated with God. In her mind, God had always sounded a lot like her father. The voice that spoke was undeniably feminine, but it was filled with an authority that seemed to transcend anything earthly. 

 

**_No._ **

 

_ What are you?  _ It was possible, Jean supposed, that the voice, whatever, it was, was a delusion produced by a brain that was rapidly falling apart in the incredible stresses she was being subjected to. Distantly, she heard the intercom saying that there were only thirty seconds until the blast began.  _ Thirty seconds until I find out whether I’m capable of doing this after all. My friends need me to succeed. So many people are counting on me. I can’t fail.  _

 

**_I am life and light. The fire eternal._ **

 

Jean suddenly found herself transported from Cape Citadel and the rows of deadly nuclear missiles into the vastness of the cosmos. She remembered the dreams she had about travelling amongst the stars and finding new planets, the dreams that she’d laughed at with Wanda, before taking another mildly ill-advised puff of Wanda’s weed.  _ It’s real. It was all real.  _ The vastness of space that she had so often dreamed of and never seriously thought she would experience, it was all in front of her. And far from being a black and empty void, she knew that it was filled with life, countless thousands of civilizations. 

 

**_I am you and you are me. I am. You are._ **

 

Jean felt it then, a vast wave of consciousness pouring over her, the collective devotion of a truly unfathomable number of people from a vast portion of the galaxy. At first, it seemed like they were simply wishing her well, which seemed truly absurd, because why would trillions of aliens care what happened to a tiny patch of a relatively insignificant planet? It beggared belief that they would give even the smallest thought to something so far outside their living experience. 

 

It took her a moment to realize that they weren’t simply wishing her well, they were  _ worshipping.  _ That thought sent a thrill of both fascination and revulsion through her.  _ Don’t do that. You can’t do that. I’m not a goddess. I’m not God. I’m just a person, an eighteen year old female human from Earth. Third planet from a perfectly ordinary star in an unremarkable patch of the galaxy.  _

 

_ I can’t. I can’t accept what you’re trying to say. It’s wrong.  _

 

**_You must. You must become._ **

 

Jean knew that the ‘becoming’ that this being offered would mean eliminating of so much of what constituted her identity that she would essentially die. She would become someone else, a being that would not be recognizable except by her face to the people that she loved. This goddess worshipped by countless billions across the galaxy would not be loved by Scott. Her parents would not recognize what this creature would have her become. 

 

Tiny fragments of seconds started to stretch into eternity, as her perception of time spiralled out of control at the same time that her perception of space did. She could count the nanoseconds on her fingers. Lifetimes, eons, the births, expansions and heat deaths of entire universes were reckoned. And yet, somehow, somewhere, the clock was ticking down. There were only eleven seconds now. 

 

_ Ten _

 

Jean couldn’t help but think of Kitty’s unflinching bravery. She had never hesitated for a second to do dangerous, even insane things, because it was the right thing to do. Jean knew that Kitty wanted desperately to be a hero and she hoped that she forgave herself and understood that she really  _ was  _ that hero deep down. The girl had incredible potential and she hoped that along the way, she would give herself a chance to simply  _ live.  _

 

_ Nine _

 

Jean had always wanted to be a teacher. She hoped that when she was, she had students like Longshot. He seized any opportunity to learn and grow with enthusiasm and never once seemed put out that he didn’t know things that other people seemed to take for granted. He’d made so much progress even in the very short time that she’d known him so far. He also had an incredible heart and was one of the purest,  noblest souls she’d ever met. 

 

_ Eight _

 

“How can you say whether the Westchester Bobcat is real or not, if you haven’t gone looking for it?” Hank had said that with a slight wink, but he’d been right, he’d always gone that extra mile to find out whether a theory was true, to test a hypothesis. He was an incredible scientist but he was also a warm and empathetic friend, someone who was as gentle in his heart as his appearance was savage. So many people owed so much to his kindness.

 

_ Seven _

 

Jean had never loved Warren the way that he wanted her to love him, but she loved him nonetheless. She worried about him, worried about the way that he confused the attention of powerful people for true friendship. She hoped that he would have the judgement to be able to see clearly about the people that he chose to associate with. Deep down, however, he was a good person and she had not been surprised, really, when he had come to help them in their hour of need. 

 

_ Six _

 

So much of her hated Erik Lehnsherr, but at the same time, he had pushed her farther and harder than anyone else did. He had recognized her power, her ability early and he had never accepted anything but her utmost. As much as she reviled him, she also recognized there was a broken soul behind all the bluster. She also knew that, perhaps, she would not be as powerful and confidant as she was without him. 

 

_ Five _

 

She remembered being with Wanda on the hill, one of the few times she’d joined Wanda in smoking. That had been the night where she’d finally asked Wanda if she was in love with her. Fate seemed to dictate that they could never explore being together the way that, in another world, Jean was sure they could, but in that moment, they had been. She loved Wanda and Wanda loved her and that would not change, regardless of who else they loved. 

 

_ Four _

 

So many mutants were abandoned by their parents, cast aside, turned out of their homes. Jean knew that she was beyond fortunate to have parents that had supported her, even when it must have seemed unendurable. Both her mother and father were basically gentle people, but they were strong too and they’d raised her into the woman she’d become. She could only hope that they would not bear anger for what had happened here, that they could forgive Charles, forgive themselves and be proud of their daughter. 

 

_ Three _

 

She remembered first meeting Charles when she had been a terrified and traumatized little girl, virtually catatonic with the psychic stress of having felt her friend die on her. He had spoken with a kind, paternal voice and when he’d reached into her mind to help draw her out of herself, he had done so gently and kindly. He gave so selflessly of himself. She hoped that he was alright, hoped that he would forgive her. 

_   
_ _ Two _

 

Jean remembered lying in bed with Scott, lazily drawing patterns on his chest and coming up with ever-more outlandish scenarios for their future wedding. They had tried to one-up each other with more and more insane locations, until he’d finally said that they’d marry each other on the Moon. “It’s been far too long since people have been there, and your shields could make us a nice little air bubble. And then we could all watch the Earth rise.” 

 

_ One _

 

_ I love you, Scott. So much. I’m sorry.  _

 

_ I did the best I could.  _

 

Twenty-nine suns rose simultaneously and Jean had never seen anything so beautiful or so final. 

 

_ Goodbye.  _

  
  
  



	47. Charles V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles reflects on Jean's loss and considers an uncertain future.

Charles had spent, in total, about twenty-four hours in captivity before he’d been found by a SHIELD recovery team, operating with intelligence apparently gleaned directly from Erik himself. It had not particularly surprised Charles that Erik hadn’t submitted to captivity after all, making a quiet escape in the chaotic aftermath of the events at Cape Citadel.  _ There is no way that he would allow himself to be taken prisoner again, after what had happened to him before. He’d rather die.  _ Charles had to swallow the random, unworthy thought that he wished that Erik  _ had  _ died. 

 

Instead, it had been Jean Grey who had laid down her life, somehow drawing forth on some unimaginable reservoir of power to contain the explosions of twenty-nine powerful nuclear weapons. Radiation levels from the site had somehow been reduced as well, absorbed or diffused. The radiation levels were low enough that one could actually go inside the Cape Citadel site for twenty minutes without protection- a protected worker could go in there for the entire day and they had been, going back and forth.

 

Charles had insisted on seeing the site directly- felt that he had to face what he would see there, see where his first student, a young woman who was scarcely less than a daughter to him, whom he’d hoped might  _ be  _ his daughter-in-law one day, had sacrificed herself to save her friends and millions of strangers. Earlier in the day, the President had insisted on touring the site himself, along with Senator Robert Kelly and various other political figures. He hadn’t been able to steel himself enough to go with them, couldn’t stand the attention from cameras. 

 

On another day, he would have been somewhat excited about the hoverchair that had recently been made for him by Forge, which freed him from anxiety about wheelchair access. Today, however, it was difficult to rouse anything but crushing sadness. He was going to see the place where Jean Grey had died, where she’d been forced to make that final, fatal decision. It was easy to blame Erik, easy to hate Erik for it, but Charles knew that he bore a great deal of the responsibility himself.  _ None of them would have been able to put themselves in that situation without my enablement.  _

 

Slowly, Charles wound his way through the wreckage of Cape Citadel- the bodies had been removed and the debris was well on its way to being cleaned up, but every so often, one could still see bloodstains that had not yet been cleaned up. There hadn’t been any time to fix any of the structural damage either, that process would take weeks or months. He passed by the control room and considered how terrified Kitty must have been, trying to disarm nuclear devices, her only assistance coming from a woman who had, by all appearances, been mortally wounded. 

 

_ It will be some kind of miracle if all that happens is that the school is shut down for lack of students.  _ Since the students had been instrumental in saving the lives of millions of people, Charles had been told quietly that it was unlikely that the government would be taking legal action itself. However, that did not mean that he wouldn’t be facing lawsuits from the parents and guardians of any students at the school that actually had them. He couldn’t blame any of them for wanting to. Their sons and daughters had been put into mortal danger and one of them had paid the ultimate price. 

 

Rounding the corner to where the missile silos had been, he noticed a middle-aged man gently placing a white rose on a small area where the metal had been scorched in a slightly peculiar rounded shape. The man turned towards him and their eyes met briefly. He stood up slowly and walked over closer to Charles, his face solemn. He was wearing a crisp uniform and by the insignia, Charles could see that he was a colonel, possibly the commander of Cape Citadel. 

 

“You must be Charles Xavier.” The man spoke, his voice as somber as his face was. He took a breath, exhaling loudly. “I was the commander here. Never thought in a million years that anything like this would happen. I don’t know how much consolation it is to you, Professor, but there’s a lot of people that wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for her. She was a hero and nobody here will ever forget that.” 

 

“Perhaps one day it shall.” Charles replied honestly, his eyes fixing again on the scorch patterns, his heart nearly stopping when he realized what it was- he’d seen images of Hiroshima where there had been similar marks left on walls and other surfaces, a shadow.  _ I’m looking at all that remains of her. There isn’t even anything to bury.  _ There would be a memorial service, of course, at her family home in Annandale, but there wouldn’t be anything to actually inter. Her mother and father wouldn’t be able to get any last glimpse of her. They didn’t even have that tiny comfort. 

 

Charles wanted nothing more than to look away from the horrific sight, to forget about it completely, but he found himself unable not to stare at the carbonized metal where a human being had once been. It was not difficult to imagine Jean there, tapping into reserves of power and strength that even he hadn’t known she had- Charles knew that her potential was vast, but the feat she had accomplished hinted at something on a level far beyond that if any known superhuman, not simply mutant. 

 

It was the sort of image that lent itself to being interpreted heroically, most likely the way that the colonel, a man used to possessing life and death power, saw it. It was an attractive way to view it, soothing, but it did not remove the fact that a young woman had been reduced to a shadow, a scorch-mark on the wall and floor.  _ I can’t forget either side of it. I can’t forget that Jean was a hero, nor can I forget that she was a young woman who deserved to live a full life, to have a career, a family, to grow old and pass away quietly with her loved ones.  _

 

“I’d like to speak to the Greys personally, to give my condolences and my thanks.” The commander spoke quietly, standing a respectful distance away from the ghastly memorial. “Have you spoken to them? I heard you were imprisoned by Magneto.” It was clear from the guarded way that he spoke that he’d heard a lot more than that. How could he explain that Erik Lehnsherr was once a man whom he’d loved like a brother, and trusted with his life and the lives of others? The colonel, and most of the world, could only see him as a dangerous terrorist, a man who remained on the loose. 

 

“Only briefly.” Charles answered honestly. It had been a very difficult conversation- how could it not have been? How can one actually tell parents that their daughter had been killed, because of actions that you yourself helped to unleash? John Grey had been very quiet on the phone, obviously suppressing profound grief and anger at the same time. Even worse had been the quiet sobbing from Elaine, broken by occasional whispers from Jean’s younger sister Sara. “If you wish to get in touch with them, do so as quietly as possible. They’ll be getting more than enough attention.” 

 

It would be difficult for the family to do any private grieving- the news had become widespread throughout the world and the President had already made a brief address on the subject and would be meeting with the Greys for an extended period of time. While the President’s intentions seemed genuine enough, Charles knew that many other people were watching the events closely and looking for an opportunity to profit from the tragedy, either materially or politically.

 

The colonel nodded gravely and sighed quietly. “Do you know what’s going to happen to the school yet? The Xavier Institute?” He turned towards Charles. “You’re a civilian, but I can’t tell you what to do and I know you must be going through eight million kinds of hell right now. But …” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know the damndest thing about what it’s like to be a mutant and I’m going to be honest with you, Professor, not too long ago I didn’t much care. I wasn’t interested in those lunatics in the Purity movement, but I didn’t like mutants much either. Thought they were dangerous- and let’s not kid ourselves, mutants  _ are  _ dangerous.” 

 

Charles remained silent as the colonel spoke- suppressing a prickle of anger at the notion of considering his students, who were  _ children,  _ to be dangerous. It was an irrational feeling, however, because he knew that the truth was that they were. The children that had gone had done things that should have been impossible. An eighteen-year old high school senior had possessed the power to contain multiple nuclear explosions. Another mutant, older and more experienced, had created the situation in which that girl had needed to stop it. 

 

“I’m sure Jean Grey knew all that, knew what people like me probably thought about her.” The colonel looked over again at the scorchmark, the shadow that was all that physically remained of Jean. “But she came here anyway. Maybe she just laid her life down for her friends, I don’t know what she was thinking. But she made that sacrifice and because of it, we’re all here. She did what was right and because she did, we can sit here and actually talk about it. 

 

Don’t shut down that Institute, Professor. You’ve done more good there than you think.” 

 

It was easy to dismiss what the colonel was telling him, to simply throw everything away and declare that it had all been a hideous mistake. Charles knew that he had made plenty of those himself, but it was true at the same time, that the reason that they had the luxury of standing around and considering whether it was worth it in some way was because the students from the school had gone out to fight, had refused to sit back and let Erik inflict his horrifying vision for the planet upon its populace. At every single turn, when Charles had tried to protect them, the students themselves had rejected it, putting themselves in danger to do what was right. 

 

Charles could not have been more proud of them, but at the same time, it was madness that fifteen-year old Bobby or fourteen-year old Kitty should be faced with those sorts of decisions, that Jean who had turned eighteen only a few months ago, should have to sacrifice her life. The oldest people on that mission had been in their early twenties, young men and women who should have been concerned about exams and hangovers rather than the nuclear annihilation of millions.  _ I cannot accept that children can be sent on incredibly dangerous missions. I will not lose another student.  _

 

“I’ll take what you say into consideration.” Charles managed a tiny smile, but he didn’t feel any mirth and the smile died long before it reached his eyes. “Of course, it may not be my decision after all- it’s quite likely that I’ll be sued out of existence, if I’m fortunate enough to escape prison.” It didn’t seem at the moment that criminal charges were being considered, but Charles knew that could change at any time. There were a huge number of laws that had been broken, even if the end result had been positive. 

 

As much as Charles wanted to simply focus on his grief and his loss, he knew that the events at Cape Citadel were already being politicized, that it would be impossible to avoid. Charles knew that he, too, would ultimately have to take political advantage of the capital accrued by the events here- it was important that people remembered the heroism of his students as much or more than they did Magneto’s terrorist rampage.  _ If we’re going to have any hope whatsoever of defeating the Mutant Registration Act, it’s going to take every bit of capital I can scrape up.  _ The thought left a decidedly bitter taste in his mouth, but what else could he do?  _ If the MRA passes without enormous modification, then Erik will be proven right and Jean’s sacrifice really will be in vain.  _

 

“Well, if anyone asks me, I know what I’ll say.” The colonel put a strong hand on Charles’s shoulder. “Make sure you don’t stay here too long, there’s still radiation in the area.” The colonel paused for a moment, looked up as if towards heaven and then down at the ground, before turning to Charles. “I’m sending a soldier down here in ten minutes or so to retrieve you. Last thing we need is for you to get some strange and awful cancer. Until then, though, if you’ve got something to say, you’ll be alone.” 

 

“Thank you.” Charles replied, so quiet it was just above a whisper. The colonel nodded crisply and walked off, leaving Charles alone with Jean.  _ No, not with Jean. With what’s left of her body. I have to believe that she’s still out there, up there, somehow.  _ The thought that somehow, that there wasn’t actually a God or a Heaven seemed so impossible to consider and yet at the same time, the notion had stuck in his head.

 

Charles wondered what her last thoughts had been, if she’d accepted her fate or despaired against it- if she was angry, simply determined, or terrified. He hoped that she hadn’t felt abandoned in her last moments. He lifted his head and looked around- whatever she had done, had largely stopped the heat and light of the weapons from affecting anything outside the totally ruined silos- the room where Jean was was badly burned, but the damage seemed infinitesimal compared to what the weapons were capable of. 

 

Charles closed his eyes and, for the first time since he’d been freed, allowed himself to stop thinking and simply  _ feel.  _ Hot tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and began spilling down his cheeks as he wept, sobs convulsing his body as the reality, that she was  _ gone,  _ hit him hard. Charles hung his head in his hands and let himself go. In a few minutes, he could compose himself, would have to compose himself, make a few comments for the media and then prepare for the long slog of campaigning afterwards. 

 

Right now, however, there was nothing Charles could do but to cry. He remembered the first time he’d met Jean Grey- then those green eyes had stared blankly at him. It wasn’t long, however, before Charles had been able to reach her and he saw her blossom with intelligence, curiosity and kindness. He remembered how quickly she had befriended Scott, how special their friendship had been for years before they’d formally became a couple. Charles remembered how passionate Jean had always been about helping others.  _ She wanted to be a teacher.  _ Even recently, she had taken on the formidable job of bridging some of Longshot’s terrifying lapses in formal education. 

 

A lot of people tended to assume and act as if Jean were perfect- or resent her out of that perception, but Charles knew better. She was fiery, sometimes impulsive and had quite a temper. Charles had no illusions whatsoever that she was the main force behind the mission to Cape Citadel, that Hank was probably far too cautious by nature to have countenanced such a foolish and dangerous thing. Ruefully, he knew that in other circumstances, he have assuredly been angry with her for risking the lives of others. 

 

In the end, however, Jean had made the decision which had quite likely saved the entire planet, or at least, millions of people on it. He didn’t doubt for a moment that if not for her sacrifice, the huge, populous and wealthy communities of Northern Virginia would have been largely obliterated or at the very least evacuated, along with the national capital and perhaps Baltimore as well. The damage caused by Magneto’s blackout of the big cities of the Northeast had caused enough damage already, in the billions- a blow like the nuclear devastation of the DC metropolitan area might have entirely broken America’s back. 

 

Charles took a deep breath, reaching into his shirt pocket for a tissue to wipe his eyes with. He would not have the luxury of many moments to let himself go- the coming days and weeks would be busy, helping others to heal and to ensure that the memory of what had happened at Cape Citadel was not perverted into something terrible. Charles knew that the world would be watching him and the Institute, now far more than ever and that even the slightest misstep could be catastrophic. He knew, though, that there was promise in the future along with strife. 

 

It broke his heart that Jean would not be there to see any of it. 


	48. Scott VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott Summers and Wanda Lehnsherr are not happy people. They've both lost the person they loved more than anyone else. 
> 
> *sniffs* Man, sad chapters are sad. :(

Scott knew that somebody was knocking at the door, but he had no desire to talk to anyone right now, because talking to people meant having to face the reality of the situation, because when he talked to other people, his instinct was to hide or minimize his own pain so as to not cause worry to other people. Talking to other people meant acknowledging there was a world beyond his pain and once he did that, he knew he’d simply throw himself into whatever work was handy. So when he heard the knocking, soft at first, but then insistent, he put on his headphones, put them on shuffle and turned it up until  _ just  _ before it hurt. 

 

_ Scott, you’re going to make yourself deaf with headphones on that loud,  _ Jean would gently scold him with a smile on her face, though sometimes she’d simply steal the headphones and start singing along with whatever was on. Other times, she’d come up with elaborate ruses to fool him into listening to something that didn’t come from four or five people playing a combination of guitar, bass and drums. It had never worked, of course, Scott always went back to his comfortable musical favorites, just like Jean had her playlist loaded with Disney songs and Beyonce.

 

Scott tried to let himself just drift upon the music like a million other times where he’d needed to decompress, where he’d been scared, angry, annoyed. One song became another and while he couldn’t lie and say that it helped remotely enough, it did distract him from reality just a little. Until the chorus of a particular song hit and the lyrics that had sort of floated by became crystal-clear. 

 

_ Say you’ll never die, you’ll always haunt me, I want to know, I belong to you, say you’ll haun-  _

 

Ripping the headphones off, Scott hurled his phone in a sudden rage against the door, the unfortunate thing shattering pretty spectacularly against the door, just as Wanda walked right through the door, quietly aided, Scott suspected, by Kitty. She’d clearly been crying recently, with red, puffy eyes, though Scott supposed she could have been smoking as well. Everybody had their favorite way of escaping and Wanda had a few of them. He sat up slightly on the bed and turned to look at her, suddenly envious of the fact that she could cry normally- his tear ducts didn’t work properly thanks to his powers. 

 

“... I’m guessing you didn’t catch the Pokemon.” Wanda said drily as she picked up the plainly trashed phone and raised an eyebrow at him for a moment before walking over to the bed, sitting down behind him and wrapping her arms around him. Scott didn’t really want any company, but the way that Wanda was holding on suggested that she needed the comfort as much as she thought he did- that he actually  _ did.  _ He felt her head rest against his shoulder and heard a little half-sob, that turned into a steady series of them. “I miss her so much, Scott. I’m sorry, maybe if I didn’t get my stupid ass kidnapped, we could have all been there and things would be different and she would-”

 

“Wanda.” Scott’s voice was firm- he probably sounded like he wasn’t about to collapse at any moment under the weight of his own grief. “We can’t go down that road. We can’t.” The thought of how things could have gone differently, however, swirled around viciously in his head, though a cooler, more rational part of his brain that had heard the full briefing had come to the conclusion that they’d been set up to be killed all along and not by Magneto.  _ Whoever that bastard that took Jean away is, I will find out who and where he is and God help him.  _

 

“Okay.” Her voice sounded so tiny and broken. Scott shoved down his own grief, his personal desire to cut himself off from the world to turn around and hold her tightly. Scott knew that Jean and Wanda had been really close friends, had actually, slightly crazily, thought for awhile a year or two ago that maybe there was something more than just friendship between them. “... I can’t actually believe it’s real, Scott, that she’s gone. Can’t believe that God or the universe or whatever could actually take her away.” Wanda let out another little half-sob. “She was the best of us, Scott. She kept all of us fuckups  _ going. _ ”

 

“She was.” Scott couldn’t help but agree- she had proven that long before she had made that incredible, horrible, selfless self-sacrifice. Other than maybe his father, he hadn’t ever met a person who was more passionate about helping others, and Jean was an even warmer, kinder personality. “And we’re going to have to try and find a way to keep ourselves going. That’s what she would have wanted.” Using the past tense killed him, but even though a tiny, insane part of him was sure that she couldn’t possibly be dead, there was no way she could have survived. 

 

“I hate him.” Wanda whispered. “I always used to say how much I hated my father, but I didn’t really mean it. I always hoped, deep down, that maybe something would change and we could be a family again. I think most of us hoped that he could maybe redeem himself somehow- but Jean had that fucker measured for  _ years.  _ I hate him and I hope somebody kills him. I want him  _ dead. _ ” Scott could feel the tension as Wanda became slightly stiffer in his arms, before collapsing into another series of sobs. Scott held her tightly until they subsided. 

 

“He had better keep his head down, because I’m going after him otherwise.” Scott was not going to let that bastard take away anyone else’s loved ones. There had been other casualties as well. Rogue had very nearly died on the mission as had the woman, Tessa, who had accompanied Jean and Hank on their mission. The latter was still in intensive care in the hospital and assuredly would have died were it not for a fortuitous field blood transfusion performed by Hank, using Warren’s blood. Nearly everyone else had received more serious injuries and of course, it had only been Jean’s sacrifice that had allowed any of them to survive. The fact that Magneto had escaped was bitter indeed for Scott- but there was little that any of them, realistically, could do at the immediate moment. 

 

“Count me in for that.” Wanda almost whispered before burying her head into his shoulder. “If you can believe it, I wanted to try and comfort  _ you.  _ Some friend I am.” There was a tiny laugh, but there was no real joy in it. “I know Jean wouldn’t want us to sit around and cry and plot revenge, but I- it just hurts so bad. And there’s this huge empty space, in the Institute and in my own fucking heart.” Scott knew how that felt like, the emptiness where Jean had fit in- he felt it in his mind too. He’d got used to pretty regular mental chatter from her and now it was gone. 

 

“You’re a  _ great  _ friend and Jean was lucky to have you.” Scott moved away just far enough from Wanda that he could, sort of, look into her eyes. Part of him, of course, simply wanted to run away, as far as a fast car or an airline ticket possibly could, but he knew that he couldn’t. No matter what happened, his fate was bound up with the Institute. “We’re going to find some way, no matter how much it hurts, to pick up and carry on, whether that means we keep doing superhero stuff or not. A lot of things are in the air, but we’ve got to be closer, rather than farther apart.” 

 

Wanda turned her gaze away, as if she couldn’t meet it. “I … I got an offer to join the Avengers, on a probationary basis.” Wanda took a breath. “I guess Captain America really wants some mutants on the team. I told them I wasn’t sure, but I think I’m goin going to say yes, at least for awhile. It just hurts a million times too fucking bad to be here and expect to see Jean around all the time and she’s gone. And … there’s no fancy lenses to control my powers if they get fucked up again.” 

 

Scott was frankly astonished by the news and as much as he didn’t want Wanda to leave and despite a certain degree of skepticism that he’d otherwise have about her prospects with the team, he swallowed all that. “Wait … you got an offer to join the  _ Avengers? _ I’m … actually kind of jealous. That’s amazing.” If he weren’t pretty near completely hollowed out with grief, he probably  _ would  _ have been insanely jealous. “You’re going to have to get Cap’s autograph for me.” 

 

Normally Wanda would’ve made some sarcastic comment or joke, but instead she simply sighed and lay her head against his shoulder again. Scott put an arm around her again. There was something other than simply grief eating at her, Scott knew, wondering what it could be.  _ Kurt?  _ The Avengers weren’t based too far from where they were, it didn’t seem insuperable for them to continue seeing each other and otherwise, he couldn’t imagine anything else had happened with them. 

 

Perhaps it was silly of Scott to think that, he certainly knew that grief alone could have a pretty powerfully dire effect on someone. He felt like half a man at best right now and maybe Wanda just felt similarly gutted with grief. She’d been close to Jean too, nearly as much in her own way as he had been with her. 

 

“Hey, what’s going on, Wanda?” Scott gently tilted her face so he could look at her properly. “C’mon, talk to me.” He kept his voice gentle, soft. He wasn’t talking to her as a team leader right now, but as a friend, as something like a brother. Scott had a sort-of sister back in Muir Island, but he’d never been incredibly close to Rahne and the divorce hadn’t done anything to help that. Scott knew that, even without a conscious choice from either of them, there had been a line drawn- Rahne was on Muir Island and he was in Westchester with his father. “It’s not something with Kurt, is it?” 

 

“Kind of.” Wanda replied flatly. “I think we’re going to take a bit of a break, with me going away for awhile-” 

 

“What?” Scott could barely believe that. “I thought everything was  _ awesome  _ with you guys.” He took a breath. “I mean, I’m not trying to say that I don’t understand-”

 

“But you don’t.” Wanda actually smiled faintly, but it was a sad smile that seemed to somehow find a tiny part of his heart that wasn’t broken already and tear at it. “It’s okay. I don’t think a lot of people get it. It’s … I’m just going to say it’s really complicated. It’s got, it’s not that I don’t like the guy. I really, really like him and it’s not even that I’m not going to decide after some time that I need my Fuzzbutt fix. It’s something that I don’t really want to talk about.” She looked down and away again. 

 

“You sure?” Scott asked, finding it slightly hard to believe that there was actually something that they couldn’t share. They talked about just about everything together- next to his father and Jean, there wasn’t a single person on Earth that Scott felt more comfortable confiding in and for Wanda, that list was probably even shorter these days.  _ What could it be?  _ He got the impression that it wasn’t just that Wanda didn’t feel capable of being in a relationship. That was what relationships were  _ for,  _ anyway, and Kurt wasn’t exactly a stranger to grief himself. 

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Wanda replied. “It’ll be okay, more than anything, I just need some space from things to get my damn head clear. And maybe the sort-of Avengers gig is exactly what I need. I can take any courses I have to take with distance ed to get my degree. Fuzzy’s got his own shit, he doesn’t need mine on his pile too. We both know he’s never quite completely wrapped his head around what happened to his brother. I  _ do  _ love him, Scott, I do. But it’s just not possible to be together right now, even if I really wish it was. But since when did wishes mean fucking  _ anything? _ ” 

“Wishes don’t mean much.” Scott replied honestly. “Dreams still matter, though.” He brought her back into his arms and hugged her tightly. “You know I’m going to miss you when you’re not around, right? So damn much. I’m gonna drive my ass over to Avengers headquarters and be a major pest just to get my Wanda time. Even if I have to deal with the biggest cloud of gross-smelling weed smoke.” Scott tried his best to laugh- it almost sounded real. “How’s Cap going to deal with that?” 

 

“Cap is going to deal with it. I’m sure he’ll want to talk about all the awful neurological stuff it’s supposed to do to a developing brain, but let’s have him deal with me  _ without  _ access to it. He’s not an idiot, he’ll take possibly-maybe crazy over definitely-for-sure crazy any day.” Wanda smiled faintly again. “I’d like that, though. You could drive me away to the Lucky 7 and I could get a huge order of fries and the biggest shake on the planet and dip my fries into my shake and watch you  _ cringe. _ ”

 

“That’s hideous. That’s almost as bad as dipping fries into mayonnaise.” It felt good to talk about things other than the crushing emotional burdens they bore, about something other than the incredible, shattering loss they’d taken. Scott took a breath. “You know, I don’t know if I ever really, truly, thanked you properly. It’s ... “ They didn’t have long together. He’d only been with Jean for a very, very short time, but he knew deep down that Wanda hadn’t kicked his ass over it, that he might not have been with her at all. “I don’t think I ever would’ve had the courage. And as much as it rips my heart apart, I’m glad that Jean and I had the time we did. If you hadn’t helped me, I might never have asked her out.” 

 

“That’s me, always looking out for my best friends.” Wanda smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder again. “She loved you so much too, Scott. You weren’t the only one that was scared. I had to kick her ass too.” She laughed faintly. “The hilarious thing is that so many people had it all wrong with the three of us. My fucking father thought that we’d be the couple that would basically rule the mutant future.” Another little laugh. “Can you actually imagine that? I mean, fuck, I love you, but not like that.” 

 

“Yeah, I kinda got the impression that your father always wanted us to get together.” Scott laughed at that, the freest laugh he’d had in a long time. “We’d  _ kill  _ each other.” He laughed again. “Want to know something else? There was a time, where I honestly kinda thought that there was a thing between you and Jean.” It seemed fairly ridiculous and it probably had been nothing about him being paranoid. Everybody seemed to be at least a little in love with Jean Grey and well, he hadn’t really given himself a chance with her. 

 

Wanda laughed. “Why would you get a ridiculous idea like that?” He swore, though, that she got a little stiffer in his arms. 

 

“Well, I know that  _ you  _ like girls too and Jean always kinda liked to be enigmatic about those things and I guess, I just, I didn’t really think I had a chance? I kinda figured out that Jean didn’t really like Warren quite as much as Warren wanted her to. And I pretty much knew that you and Warren weren’t going anywhere from the beginning. He’s  _ really  _ not your type-” 

 

“Oh god. The farthest imaginable. But I was bored and, fuck, a bit lonely too. It never would’ve worked out in a million years though.” Wanda sighed quietly, a sound that sounded like half a sob. “Jean loved  _ you.  _ She always did and God knows that you always loved her. It was ridiculous that you guys didn’t hook up at like thirteen. I mean, maybe not actually hook up, because ew. It was ridiculous that you guys weren’t together and you know how much I hate ridiculous things. I saw a problem and I fixed it.” A slightly ragged breath. “Why did it have to be her? She really  _ was  _ the best of us.” 

 

“She was.” Scott agreed, taking a heavy breath of our own. “But we can aspire. We can try to be like that. It’s so easy to … it’s so easy to be completely swallowed up in grief and pain-” And it  _ was.  _ Scott still wanted just to wallow in it, but he couldn’t. He knew that he couldn’t. “- but if we do that, then that flame she lit goes out. We can’t let it go out. We have to remember her and fight the fight she was devoted to.” 

 

“Jesus fuck, I’m going to get enough of that inspirational bullshit over at Avengers HQ.” Wanda looked up at him and actually smiled faintly. “Hey. I got an idea. You drive me over to the Lucky 7 and buy me fries and a giant shake. And you can get a gross Gentile burger with extra bacon. Oh god, also, they have those little donuts now. You can dip those in shakes too. 

 

Let’s just pig out and be ridiculous angstmuffins but with delicious greasy food. And if you want to break down and get absolutely stratospherically high, fuck, I can share. But grease. I need grease. And a drive. And we’ll play classical because I don’t think any of it will trigger you. Your poor phone. You’ll have to get another one.” She leaned her head back against him. “Come on. Let’s just get out of here. Please?” 

 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m just a chauffeur for you.” Scott shook his head. “But you’re  _ not  _ smoking in my car. That stuff smells horrible.” He slowly got himself off of the bed. “Well, fuck. I just wrecked my phone.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you throw it against a heavy wooden door like a HGH-addled major league pitcher.” Wanda looked up at him and held out her arms, waggling them ridiculously. “Up.” He couldn’t help but laugh and went over to pull her up. “C’mon, let’s go. A drive and some greaseball burgers will do you good. And you’re basically the only person who it isn’t crushingly awkward to be around right now for me.” 

 


	49. The Very Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite evil geneticist has a lovely conversation with his 'daughter' over tea. Also, there's something in a big glass container that might be of interest to the X-Men ...

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? When I found her six months ago, she was essentially ash, a carbonized shadow.” Nathaniel Essex turned towards the elder of his two ‘daughters’, the shadow of a smile playing on his face. “And now look at Jean Grey.” Long fingers drummed against the glass. “I would say she’s reforming quite nicely, wouldn’t you?” The cellular mass that had reformed over the last several months was slowly resolving into a recognizable human shape. It would take almost another year by his calculations but he would ultimately end up with Jean Grey, though Essex wasn’t actually certain as to whether she would remember anything about herself. 

 

“It looks disgusting.” Madelyne’s lip curled. “Tell me why you need  _ her  _ when you’ve got  _ me.”  _ Disgusted as she professed to be, she peered up closer and Essex didn’t need telepathy to tell that there was as much fascination as revulsion. “I’ve got all her abilities.”  _ The ones that are a simple product of her mutant genetics, true. But there is something else within her that I cannot quantify, that I’m sure that not even a perfect clone would possess.  _ “Besides, she was boring when she was alive. The only interesting thing that she ever did was die.” 

 

Essex supposed that it was his fault for letting Madelyne spend any time with his lesser hirelings, the so-called Marauders. She had, once upon a time, been a sweet girl like her ‘sister’, Annie, but the Marauders had planted cruelty in her heart. Madelyne could feign innocence when she needed, of course, but Essex knew that she loved little more than to make others suffer.  _ I suppose every father has to accept, eventually, that their children grow up.  _ The one child he’d had before he’d been changed, hadn’t had that chance. 

 

“As ever, you are blunt, but not wrong. The manner in which she died was most fascinating. You’re one of the most powerful mutants on the planet, Madelyne, a perfect genetic replica of Jean Grey. And yet, such a feat should be impossible. I’m aware that science bores you, but needless to say, the explosion of twenty-nine six-megaton nuclear missiles should have obliterated that facility and the bulk of Northern Virginia along with it.” Essex moved away from the glass container where Jean was being held and walked over to a nearby table. “Tea? I’m afraid, though, that Annie has not had time to bake. Store-bought biscuits only, I’m afraid.” 

 

Madelyne rolled her eyes, but she knew better than to contradict him, settling down into a chair and allowing him to pour the tea. When she poured an ungodly amount of sugar into her cup, he graciously pretended to look the other way. “Maybe I could have. I’m stronger now than Jean Grey ever was before that day.” That much, Essex had to admit, was true. Jean Grey under normal circumstances struggled to lift much more than a ton telekinetically. Madelyne could hoist ten times as much without any significant effort on her part- but what Madelyne, typically, didn’t consider, was the orders of magnitude that lay between lifting a heavy truck and preventing the heat, light and radiation of over two dozen thermonuclear devices from escaping.

 

“The point that I’m trying to make, my dear, is that there is something  _ else  _ inside Miss Grey and I need to find out what precisely that is. How else could carbonized ashes spring back to life? If I can find out what precisely this power that lies in her  _ is,  _ then I can use it. Perhaps it is transferrable.” Essex lifted up the tea to his lips and took a careful sip, sure not to get tea on his neatly trimmed goatee. Setting down the teacup, he lifted up a delicate pair of tongs and placed a biscuit on his saucer beside the tea. It had been well over a century since he’d required any sort of sustenance, but he enjoyed tea and biscuits as well as when he’d been a man of ordinary flesh and blood. 

 

Madelyne seemed suddenly interested, a gleam appearing in her eyes when he spoke of transferability. “If that power can stop something with the power of nuclear explosions, perhaps it can do the opposite.” She smiled and lifted up her tea to take a sip. “I could have a lot of fun with that sort of power, Father. Perhaps we could make sure that  _ Grandfather  _ doesn’t spoil all your intricately laid plans.” She grasped a biscuit, neglecting to use the tongs he’d laid out for the purpose, dunking it in her tea before taking a bite. 

 

Essex loathed it when she addressed the monstrous Ancient who had transformed him in such familiar terms, but in a way, she had not been wrong. While he still bore the name Nathaniel Essex from time to time, the original man had died over a hundred and fifty years ago. A new man had been born that day, so the Ancient who had been known as Set, as Satan, who had dubbed himself  _ Apocalypse  _ in a more modern era, was in a very real sense, his father and creator. In turn, he had created Madelyne. 

 

“That is, indeed, my hope. One way or another, whatever lurks within Jean Grey will be at my disposal. And when the loathsome beast is finally in his tomb, well then, the world really is ours, isn’t it, my dear?” Essex smiled thinly and dipped his biscuit in the tea before taking a bite. Annie’s home-baked ones were really much better, but there was nothing to be done for it. She was busy with her homework and homework came before anything else. One day, perhaps, he would even allow her to grow up and she could be a scientist like him. 

 

Essex drummed his fingers on the table and briefly wished that he had a piano in the laboratory, but where would he put such a thing? It was a silly desire anyway, he could go into the study at any time and play. His father had always thought his love of music was effeminate, unbecoming of a man of his stature. He remembered watching his father die, choking on his own bodily fluids, the country doctor utterly flummoxed at how to treat him or even relieve his final agony. It was unseemly, after all, for a doctor to treat his own family. 

 

“Some of your friends might dispute that.” Madelyne teased, dunking her biscuit into the tea and finishing it off, before grabbing another. “Doctor Zola, Herr Schmidt. I’m quite sure they believe pretty firmly that the world is theirs and that you’re just an occasional source of those ridiculous Master Men.” She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me that you’ll at least let me crush Zola. If I have to see that chest screen one more time …” 

 

“My old associates are useful for the time being, and they do a wonderful job of keeping misguided crusaders distracted from my affairs.” Essex decided that there was no point using the tongs now that Madelyne had got her hands all over the biscuits and took another one from the tray. He pushed the tray a little farther away, though the fact was that he could have consumed the entire box without any manner of ill-effect. “Should they ever  _ cease  _ being useful, well, you know how that goes.” 

 

“They’re getting a little restless, you know.” Madelyne pointed out, taking another sip of her tea. “They’re too afraid and loyal to go against your will, but it’s been awhile since they’ve been ordered to kill anything. I’m half-surprised you haven’t put them back in their pods. Is there something in particular you’re needing them for?” That Madelyne would concern herself at all with the Marauders was mildly irksome to him, but the fact was that the situation was fluid enough that he didn’t particularly want to deal with the necessary 48-hour readjustment period after stasis. He needed them ready to go  _ immediately.  _

 

“I wouldn’t worry about them. They’ll have business enough to keep them busy in the coming days. I’m not exactly short of enemies, as it happens.” Essex had a particular enemy in mind, though, and a move against  _ her  _ could potentially make him some powerful new associates, ones with resources that would move him ever closer to his goals. “I would have thought they would appreciate the time with the rest of us in the real world.” Like any hunting dogs, though, Essex knew that they needed quarry- perhaps he could find something useful for them to kill tonight. 

 

“How long before Sleeping Beauty over there has actually knit herself back together?” Madelyne asked, looking over at Jean Grey again. “Do you know if she’ll actually be  _ her,  _ or just another braindead clone?” Essex could swear there was a flash of jealousy in her eyes as she looked Jean over. “Any intentions of letting her family and friends know that she’s alive? Or do we just keep that secret to ourselves?” 

 

“Approximately a year, give or take a few months. What’s happening to her was not anticipated by me, though I appear to be able to accelerate it slightly.” Essex poured himself more tea. He supposed that Madelyne might assume that he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t precisely quantify what was happening to Jean Grey, but the truth was that he found it refreshing. There was a legitimate mystery at hand, some manner of power that lie beyond what he could analyze genetically. 

 

Essex put a lump of sugar gently into the cup and swirled it around with his spoon, before setting it aside and taking a delicate sip. “In the meantime, I have an interesting social proposition for you. I know how dreadfully boring it must get in the house sometimes.” That at least, would pique her interest. In a way, it was slightly saddening, Annie never seemed to mind being in the house.  _ Then again, I’ve allowed Madelyne to grow up.  _ He had found Anya when she was a little girl and she’d never been allowed to go past twelve. Her body was prevented from biologically aging and occasional mindwipes would ensure she didn’t grow up further than desirable. 

 

“There is an organization, a sort of social club you could say. They’ve recently entered into a delicate sort of alliance with Jean’s dear friends at the Xavier Institute. It’s all rather decadent, of course, all manner of debauched soirees and vicious backstabbing.” Essex knew, of course, that nothing would intrigue Madelyne more. “I may in time make an appearance before this august body, but of course, I’m something of a retiring fellow.” 

 

“What is this august body called?” Madelyne asked, smiling sweetly. She could feign innocence as well as anyone, but of course, he wouldn’t require that for the Hellfire Club- the Hellfire Club valued cunning and power. It was a bit of a shame, really, that they utilized all their impressive personal and political power towards what appeared to be some sort of neo-reactionary agenda of dominating the world openly. “You’ve got me intrigued, Father. Do elaborate.” 

 

“The Hellfire Club.” It was obvious from the way that Madelyne grinned that she liked the sound of that. “I will of course, take all the necessary preparations to give you the resources you need to look impressive enough for them to adopt you into your precious inner circle. However, it will fall to your natural charms after that. Many of the individuals involved are fools with which I have little patience, but they command impressive resources. They also have deepening connections with the Xavier Institute, though I hear vague rumours of their opening a rival school.” 

 

“And what happens if they’re so connected as you say and they notice that someone who looks  _ exactly  _ like their beloved, departed Jean Grey is walking around? It might make them more than a little curious.” Madelyne pointed out as she finished her tea, holding out her cup for a refill. Essex obliged her, filling up her cup, to which she added a somewhat excessive amount of both cream and sugar.  _ She drinks tea like Americans drink their coffee. Ah well, I suppose she is an American.  _

 

“You would be startled what a few cosmetic changes can do- a different hairstyle, dressing differently. I also didn’t train you to act like Jean Grey, so you don’t move the same, don’t have the same mannerisms. And yet- you look  _ hauntingly  _ like Jean. A sick and lonely young man, without the love of his life? He may just notice you. Perhaps his first reaction is bafflement, even revulsion. But there you are. Different enough that he can reassure himself that you’re not a doppleganger, but similar enough that he’s already primed to fall hopelessly in love all over again.” Essex took a long sip of his tea. “If such a thing would happen, I’d be well-pleased.” 

 

“And when I’ve stolen this precious young man’s heart? What then? Shall I tear it out of his chest? I can do that, you know.” Her eyes twinkled somewhat maliciously and Essex reminded himself to have a discussion with Victor about precisely what he was showing Madelyne. The last thing he needed was for his daughter to pick up on some of Creed’s eccentricities.  _ No matter what he tries to tell himself or convince others, there is nothing gentlemanly about cannibalism.  _ “I mean, I don’t have to do it literally. I could, but if you’ve got something else in mind for him …” 

 

“The young Mr. Summers is a man of impressive potential.” Essex actually sighed as he set down his cup of tea. “Very, very repressed, mind you, but full of potential nonetheless. I’ve known him since he was a boy, Madelyne. And what I found is that he is as close to incorruptible as I’ve encountered. He’ll break long before he bends, and he’s not easily broken. But, perhaps, all those years, I was using the wrong approach.” 

 

“Couldn’t you just make him do things telepathically? You’re an even stronger telepath than me.” Madelyne asked, as Essex figured that she would. “Don’t get me wrong, the idea of playing the game of thrones appeals to me, but you  _ could  _ simply compel them to do what you wanted. Or kill them. You do have a squad of very capable murderers. Actually, I’m willing to bet you could kill most of them with your bare hands if you wanted to. Why not simply  _ take  _ all these resources you want?” 

 

“Because that would be unforgivably  _ gauche _ . Because I do not lack patience, because that is exactly what Apocalypse would do. Take with main force. The most powerful being who ever walked the Earth and he never progressed past the mental level of Genghis Khan.” Essex took another sip of his tea. “I play the long game, my dear. And when all is said and done, everything I desire will be mine. And those who would think to stop me won’t even know I’m there. The human race will take its next great leap of evolution and I’ll be right there along with it, like a patient gardener, watering the soil, pruning dead and dying branches.

 

The Hellfire Club, Magneto, the Xavier Institute, the American government, all these powerful actors, Madelyne, they all believe they have their hand on the wheel, they all believe that they move the narrative of humanity forward with their actions and intentions. Senator Kelly thinks that somehow you can legislate an end to evolution. Charles Xavier believes that evolution can run its course without struggle. All these people, heroes and villains, would-be gods and monsters, think they understand.” 

 

Essex got back up and went back over to where Jean Grey slowly rebuilt her body, resting his fingers on the glass. “She proved them all wrong. Reason dictates that no human being should be capable of stopping the force of even one thermonuclear explosion- she stopped twenty-nine of them. Reason dictates that once someone is dead, that is final and yet, she is living again and soon enough will be walking amongst us. 

 

They do not understand because they cannot see the wider perspective. I cannot be angry with them for their blindness- they will live and die in the space of a single century if they’re fortunate. Our dear friend Max Eisenhardt may, true, see another, but even he’s not immortal. One day, Magneto too, will age and die. And as generations rise and fall, Madelyne, there I shall be, quietly guiding the invisible hand of evolution.

 

See to it, Madelyne, that my interests are looked after. I’m fond of you, but I cannot tolerate failure in this endeavour.” It would take a great amount of time and resources to make another clone of Jean Grey, but if Madelyne was not equal to the task, he would do so in a heartbeat. “We will discuss the particulars of your mission later. In the meantime, let us adjourn and leave Miss Grey to reconstitute her body in peace. We’ll have further need of her soon enough.” 

 


End file.
